Nobody Listens to Techno
by TurboFerret
Summary: Blurr is restored and decides to start his life from scratch, resigns from spec ops, buys a bar and is ready to leave his darker past behind. Then a peace treaty with the Decepticons happens and he suddenly has to play nice with former enemies whilst meandering on the edge of neutrality. Competent Blurr. Lots of background pairings. [Knock Out/Breakdown; Drift/Ratchet].
1. It was a blurr, sir

I kid you not, this was inspired by EMINEM 'Without me". This is an intended Shockblurr fick BUT since Shockwave is not in picture yet - I did not want to add misleading tags.

* * *

 _...Guess who's back,_

 _Back again…_

 _...Guess who's back, tell a friend..._

A bright blue alt whizzed down the busy road. Sleek and agile it slipped between the rows of heavy construction bots standing in the traffic jam. Much to annoyance of bigger bots who just wanted to get on with their day but were constricted by their size.

-"Heey!"

Teasingly Blurr winked his backlights at the mech who had hailed him and kept on weaving his way through the thick traffic. Some earthen song accelerated exactly 1.25 times without any quality loss was blasting on his internal speakers. A gift from Blaster who had made an entire collection of remixed songs for him to listen to during his recuperation in the medical ward. To say that they had lifted his mood was an understatement, they had practically roused him from medical stasis and the fact that Blaster had bothered making something specially for him, everyone else had also pitched in - providing the material for him to work with, all in all was incredibly considerate and sweet.

 _...Now this looks like a job for me,_

 _so everybody, just follow me…_

 _...'Cuz it feels so empty without me…_

He hummed merrily along the lines, most of the content went above his processor - too many human-isms but he still enjoyed the rhythm and the expressive chanting. Also it gave him ideas.

For one, he did not wish to continue in spec ops - too many bad memories and he wished dearly to do something else with his life now that he had literally been given the second chance. The resignation letter was bumping reassuringly on the pad in his subspace.

Decepticons had sustained some heavy losses, and sooner or later, he hypothesized, his position would have become obsolete anyway. No way was he going to be stuck in an office pushing papers, they had Cliffjumper for that and Long…. He stopped himself there and switched the music a little louder.

 _...Well I'm back,_

 _Na-na-na-na-na-na…._

 _Fix your bent antenna and tune it in..._

He was not there yet, still having bad fluxes every once and again, still experiencing phantom aches, but he was going to be alright, he was going to be OK. Maybe not today, but someday, he was sure. He had enough credits saved on his account in addition to the fact that the repairs and upgrades were performed in accordance to work-induced trauma act, hence, cost him nothing.

 _...A visionary, a vision of scary..._

He finally reached his destination - the command center. The guard at the door looked at him warily when he pinged his ID.

 _...You don't know me you're too old,_

 _It's over, nobody listens to techno …_

The alt did not really fit the previous description and neither did the taller, sturdier frame. No wonder, together with the restoration he had also gone for a mild frame upgrade - still aerodynamic and lightweight but now with more coverage - partially to hide scars, partially for having a little bit of something new. The main elements remained however - the swept-back helm, the sensor-antenna, the foot-wheels and the trademark color scheme. He was still Blurr, maybe a little more mature, maybe a little less hasty, definitely ready for a change.

-"Just _pause_ call _pause_ Prime. He _pause_ is expecting _pause_ me."

He tapped his toe-piece checking once more that the datapad was in place. Luckily the guard understood him from first attempt, and went about his business. Ah, the blessed ping of clearance.

-"Welcome back, Blurr, Sir, please wait in the main hall, you will be picked up there."

Not for long , Blurr thought and smirked at the guard as he strolled in. Step-pause, step-pause, holding the rhythm of the music. He needed the confidence, he needed to look convinced, he needed out and was quite certain not everybody would be OK with that.

The command looked like it always had, he almost felt like he had traveled back in time. Same halls, maybe a couple new faces.

-"Hey mech, lookin' good! Nice seeing you on your own two feet!"

Blurr smiled at the approaching black and white mech. -"Hey yourself, not much for redecorating are you?"

Jazz shrugged, -"Not all changes gotta be external."

Did Blurr know that, he fell in step behind Jazz. -"I guess you are my escort for now."

-"Mmm, heard you were planning to quit."

-"Not going to try to talk me out of it?"

Jazz gave him a long look. -"After what ya've been through… I think ya've gone above and beyond duty."

Blurr shrugged -"Just extremely lucky." He did not want to be treated like some kind of hero, he did not consider himself one. They stopped, having reached the conference room. Before entering Blurr turned to Jazz.

-"Anything I should know about?"

-"Too late for that now, mech." Jazz smirked as the doors opened before them.

The conference room was in an uproar. Temporarily stunned Blurr took a step back and bumped into Jazz.

-"This was not the 'welcome back' party I anticipated."

-"'Cuz it ain't. Or if it is, the 'cons have done extra effort to join in."

Blurr felt his spark chamber fill with ice. His face pulled into a sour grimace, he knew he would be expected to join as part of spec-ops and since he had not yet filed his resignation officially…

-"Welcome back soldier! Ready for your mission?"

Sentinel...Blurr was about to say where he could stick his mission but Jazz intervened.

-"I believe Blurr has an announcement."

-"No time for announcements! The decepticon high command has been broken out of Trypticon of all places, we have serious security leaks and we need every able-bodied agent on field!"

Blurr sighed, it Should have mattered more to him but he felt strangely removed from the entire clamor. He took it as a sign that he had taken the right decision. He was tired of fighting, of deception, lies, constantly putting his spark on line. With an apologetic glance at Jazz out of all mecha he took his datapad out of subspace and handed it to Sentinel. -"Sure, sir, I just need you to sign my clearance for me."

Without looking, his superior did just that. The speedster could see a smile tugging at corner of Jazz's mouth. With a small vent, Blurr placed the pad on the commanding officer's desk and turned to leave.

-"Just where do you think you are going agent?! The mission briefing is in 3 clicks."

-"I believe I am no longer authorized to attend that meeting, Sir." Blurr replied with a deadpan expression.

-"Nonsense, Now get your aft there before I drag you by the skidplate."

-"Sir, I believe Blurr might have a point there." Jazz piped, still remaining diplomatic as ever.

-"I have no time for this, I just signed his clearance papers!" Sentinel looked justifiably frustrated.

-"If I may, you might want to take a second look at them, Sir." Blurr stepped up, retaining his calm exterior, no more ranting, nobody took ranting mecha seriously.

Time seemed to still for Blurr, his focus aimed at Sentinel's prominent facial expressions - frown at actually reading the text, confusion, realization, outrage. The datapad sailed past the blue speedster and shattered against the wall.

-"You are NOT allowed to leave when we need every able-bodied agent!"

-"I believe I am allowed to resign whenever I choose to according to the labor act amendment 39A..."

It took Sentinel a moment to pull up the law Blurr had referred to but when he did, he actually smiled -"Well, it Has to be approved by me first!"

-"And it was."

-"Without me knowing! Furthermore since the agreement had unfortunately perished in an accident it will have to be approved again and it will not."

Without missing a beat Blurr unsubspaced another pad. -"I copied it to the data cloud and it is now available on every datapad I possess. I promise to let you read it again if you will refrain from damaging my property and I also believe you will have to compensate me for the one you just broke."

Sentinel contorted his face into a pleased smile. -"No wonder you were one of the best agents we had, quick and bright. You sure you want to squander your skills doing who knows what?"

Oh, now he was flattering him? If anything, that cemented Blurr's resolve -"Completely, Sir."

-"You know that once you go civilian you will lose all the protection you used to have. All 'cons in the city will go after you."

-"I believe my previous job was quite similar to what you describe."

-"Fine, but do not expect me to take you back in when slag hits fan."

-"Certainly."

Blurr left, or rather, was kicked out of the conference room. Out of all occasions of being kicked out of somewhere this was probably the most joyful one. Jazz trailed after him into the lobby.

-"Hate to agree with Sentinel here but he is right about going civilian, have you considered it?"

Blurr shrugged. -"I was not a civilian when I got all close and personal with a trash compactor, I think I will manage."

-"Stay in touch, will you?" Jazz did not sound convinced but neither did he insist,

-"Sure!"

* * *

I wanted to see more of competent Blurr. So here we go.


	2. A new place to start

Blurr is doing Fine. As fine as he can, circumstances considered.

* * *

Blurr spent the days following his spectacular exit of the command center (as Bumblebee had put it, bemoaning the fact that he could not have witnessed it himself) checking the real estate market. He needed a project, ideally a project which could also double as work and would hopefully keep him occupied enough to keep his traumatic experience where it belonged - in the past.

He flagged a couple of locations and gathered intel on the Iaconian districts which were bound to become popular over time but were not there just yet. His unbiased network of real-estate spec-ops agents aka Jazz, Blaster and, surprisingly, Ratchet provided him with plethora of ideas for possible areas.

Prowl had suggested going through city development plans to glean a bigger picture. The prospects were publicly accessible and after an early morning visit to the city hall the blue speedster leisurely traveled down the street with relevant pads secured under his servo. He sped past a news-banner, scrolling the latest political development with regards to Decepticon fugitives. Blurr forced himself not to look into it too much, all he needed to know was that they were still on the run.

He settled in one of the open-air diners, ordering his favorite blend of energon (finally after decacycles of subsiding on med-grade) and pored over the municipal development plans. The old docks looked promising, he cross-checked with his list of prospective buildings and came across an abandoned oilhouse east side of the old dock district. Humming to himself he pinged the owner.

To a casual onlooker he looked like a young enterpreneur mech out for his morning energon. He sipped his cube and looked at the mecha rushing around; courrier mecha and cargo shuttles zipped down the street, cleaning drones maintained the glistening buildings, an occasional rescue vehicle trudged past. His sight drifted towards another news-banner, now displaying the images of fugitive Decepticons, one in particular drew his attention. Antennae and a single red optic, seems Shockwave was among the ones who had escaped, Blurr's mouth drew into a tight line.

Resolved not to let the news spoil his day he checked his personal messages; the oil-house owner had responded, they were meeting that afternoon. It was mid-morning, the solar rays pleasantly warmed his plating and he stretched in his seat. The way things were going he was in for a lot of fun being his own boss.

The way to the meeting point was a tad bumpy but the area was surprisingly neat and just teetered in that end of lower-end income which was not necessarily criminal. Blurr allowed himself a look around the surrounding streets as the owner had pinged him that he would be late.

The oilhouse stoof on the corner of a crossing and it was missing a couple of windows, the thick metal door was dented, spoting marks of what seemed to be a couple of kicks of construction-class mech and, most notably, perhaps, a vulgar graffiti adorned the entirety of one of the walls. Blurr regarded it with fascination pondering just how much detailing one could put into a 7-mechanomter interface cord; as it appeared, a lot.

He was in for a surprize when the owner arrived and he got to see the inside of the place. Yep, it had dead glichmice, yep, it was rusty and dirty but otherwise the place was literally perfect. The leftover piping and mechanics added a nice touch to the atmosphere, the oil tubs would serve great repurposed as booths. Fingers under chin, Blurr hummed and squinted, already imagining the layout. He had seen a couple of other locations earlier that day, this one was more run-down but it tugged at his spark.

Grinning he turned around to face the owner -"I'll take it."

The credit exchange was complete in a moment and so was the transfer of ownership rights. While the previous owner cast Blurr one last disbelieving glance the racer was already busy cataloguing which things needed to be done. He could not stay long himself, though. His internal alarm pinged him that he had a session to attend.

-"Whoa mech, you've transformed the place!" Several weeks later, Jazz admired the interior - the rust-free support beams, newly-laid floors and repaired windows. -"Not to mention the exterior."

Having known that graffiti in this area was going to be an inevitability Blurr decided to go with the flow of the neighborhood and offered the local street artists a cleaned, primed wall with only 2 rules in place - no political manifestos and no profanities or slurs. The resulting mishmash of colors, wibbly glyphs and in some cases, really stunning patches of work drew an optic but at the same time did not stand out too much from the aesthetics of the surrounding area.

-"It is only the beginning, I am waiting for the bar-table to arrive." Blurr spun around backwards on his wheel, facing Jazz. -"Still thinking on the name."

-"You gotta keep the 'Oil house' in the name. They don't make them like they used to, gotta bank on that." The black and white bot grinned then turned towards his ex-colleague. -"Blurr… I'm so happy for you."

Blurr rubbed his forearm -"Actually I was wondering, I know you like playing the electro-cytar and I know you wanted to go semi-pro."

-"You want me to…" Jazz's visor lit up.

-"Only if you want, I figured you could use a place to start."

Oh Jazz was in on it and at a later point, so was Blaster, asking if he could use Blurr's joint as a venue for launching his mixtapes.

All was good and nice on the surface, Blurr could keep up his buoyant, fast pace of life until he had to recharge, in fact, he would aim to exhaust himself so thoroughly that the only thing he could do after arriving home would be to slump on his sleeping mat and power off.

If the day had not proven to be taxing enough or if exhausting himself did not do the trick some nights he would fill his time with anything that would dampen the echos of what had transpired within the walls of his minimalistic quarters. He would practice juggling, exercise a manner of speaking slower before a polished slab of metal to monitor his movements and gestures and finally fall into recharge whilst reading datapads on interior design.

On the first night he had returned to his home he had (contrary to First Aid's advice not to exert himself) dragged all his bedding and the couch out of his apartment. He had speculated setting it on fire but refrained from it in favor of leaving it on the curb for someone who might actually need it. That night he had slept on the floor and it had been the most liberating feeling he could imagine. That is if his processor did not glitch during his recharge hours.

Like a clock, several cycles into his slumber he would be up, venting heavily, still feeling the remnants of the constricting sensation of his fuel tank pressing backwards into his intake. This time he had an unexpected bonus in form of a red optic which had proven to be the tipping point. Nausea struck and moments later the tang of the back of his fuel tanks indeed graced his taste receptors.

Shivering on the washrack floor he vented deeply and slowly, keeping the onset of a panic attack at bay. He was not going to recharge anymore tonight and he could not stay in his apartment anymore either, since the feeling of walls pressing on him still lingered in the back of his processor. So he went out, drove to the old oil house, pinged the door open to get some more work done. Before he could enter, however, he was blinded by several sets of headlights zipping past him at breakneck speed. Instinctively he jumped into the opened doorway for cover and watched the lights as they disappeared behind the nearest corner.

Street racers… a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, not attackers. The night was still young and he was not inclined to sleep, racing sounded like the right remedy. Keyeing the door back shut he transformed and revved his engines before launching in pursuit of the other participants.

He would have caught up with them sooner had the race path not zigzagged so, several times he lost their sight and had to follow the scattered light reflections to follow the race. He politely drew up to the finish line, making sure not to surpass anyone. He was gatecrashing and he did not wish to steal anyone's spotlight just yet. If he played his cards right he even could gather a little pool of mecha in the know who would spread a word for him once he was in business.

Following the racer courtesy of not crossing the finish line of the race he had not been invited to, he transformed into his root mode and approached the racers.

-"Hi, I'm Blurr and I'm new here."

* * *

Heavy hints at Blurr's occupation in Windblade continuity. And now we know why :)

Yes, Blurr's new building had a dick on it.


	3. I m still a rockstar

Blurr is so focused on his project he almost misses some important political developments.  
Luckily there is the rest of the world out there to remind him that.

* * *

The street racers had ended up being a rather mixed bunch. Some had welcomed him openly, others not so much but he remained hopeful when a couple of his new acquaintances had practically dragged him out of his dusty workshop and to a nightspot. He had barely had the time to wipe off his armor.

It had been a long time since Blurr had been to a place this boisterous but considering that it was going to become his future occupation desire for industrial espionage won over social awkwardness.

Somebot bumped into Blurr's side, making him spill the energon, as he proceeded through the gyrating and overcharged crowd, he got elbowed in the back, someone stepped on his toepiece, a shout from an overcharged patron left his audial ringing. As far as nightspots went, very little had changed and yep, someone had just groped his aft. To avoid the most of it Blurr secluded himself to a shady corner and took note of the interior with almost clinical detachment. He looked at the speakers and assessed their quality and placement specifics, observed the staff dynamics. Then, looking at a couple of dirty-looking energon cubes on the table before him he thought back to health permits and made a mental note to ask Ratchet about those.

While Blurr was deep in thought about volume regulations during off-cycle somemech glided to stand next to him a hair too close to be just casual. Oh for the love of…he was not up for casual flirting tonight or any night, for that matter. Blurr moved away to examine the lighting fixtures. Somemech from his group offered him a drink, the rest of the night Blurr put down to overcharged shenanigans and left it at that, no regrets.

He was roused next morning by a helmache and a flurry of pings from his ex-colleagues, some of which he had not expected to hear from again. His first thought was that he had done something punishable whilst in his overcharged state, Primus knew he had not had higrade in ages.

With zero enthusiasm Blurr scrolled through the messages. First it had been a small ping from Jazz - which had become almost normal with them, the mech cared; then Cliffjumper, which was unusual and then, surprisingly Sentinel himself, finally a small note from Bumblebee just dropped into his inbox to tip the scales of his curiosity.

Groggily he rolled over on his mat and stared at the ceiling; he still preferred to recharge on the floor. Lately he spent less and less time in his home, giving preference to the open lofty area situated just above the main area of the oil house. It doubled as storage, berthroom and office. Giving a long and bored groan he sat up, resigned that his morning was going to start with busywork after all.

Jazz's note contained only one sentence "Check the news".

Cliffjumper had sent something along the lines of cordial evening at command center for some event or another...what? Blurr just deleted that message, he was so done with command center anyway.

He opened Bumblebee's note foregoing the order if only to delay the unpleasantness he anticipated in Sentinel's message. He frowned. How uncouth, it had been from Sentinel as well but sent from Bee's credentials just to make sure he read it.

Groaning, he did not bother reading the remainder of messages and instead heeded Jazz's advice and craned his helm outside the window to see what the news' billboard closest to his place said.

Clearly he was seeing wrong, he recalibrated his optics and tried again. First, a purple sign he had come to associate with Decepticons, then bold purple letters, stating something along the lines that Purple was the new color of peace. Baffled he pinged Jazz.

-"The frag?!"

-"Rise and shine, we are not at war anymore."

-"And I'm Unicron's uncle."

-"You got the invitation yea?"

-"Deleted it."

-"Hate to call you that but you are considered a veteran so, well, honoring the dead on both parties and all that..."

Blurr's processor stalled - "The 'cons are in Iacon?!"

-"Not Just the 'Cons, mech, their high-slaggin' command."

Blurr gulped and Jazz sensed the unease on the other side of the connection. -"I'll be there and so will Blaster and Ratch, furthermore we got the home field advantage."

-"Can't see what might go wrong there." Blurr sounded as unconvinced as he felt, decepticons Always had something brewing.

-"And that, my mech, is why we need you. I am sorry to drag you into this, but it is a gesture of peace as much as demonstration of power."

The conversation had left Blurr tapping his stylus. He had hoped that the opening of his bar would not coincide with any other big event and he had been wrong.

Resigned, he placed the orders for various energon blends and set off to washracks. Despite himself he was curious about what happened on the streets when the news truly hit.

Perched on his observation spot outside one of the sites vending energon jellies in the old docks district he watched as mecha finally took notice of newsboards. Confusion, anger, relief - that meant he had to be hasty with his own projects. Chances were mecha wanted to gather in places and discuss this and what a better place to discuss events with friends than a bar.

The peaceful memorial service for those fallen in the war or "Grand event of great consequence" as he had settled to calling it among friends, took place just days after the bar's scheduled opening. Skepticism about the goodwill of the both factions gave rise to ludicrous theories that the universe would implode on itself on the day when that many Autobots and Decepticons gathered in one place without hostilities. Smirking, Blurr jotted down the idea for the opening theme.

-"Welcome to the end of the world party!" Blurr greeted his former colleagues who had been the first to arrive for the opening of his establishment. Jazz had prepared a set of poignant performances to make fun of the situation and Blaster had his latest mixtape ready for a spin. Ratchet and the others settled themselves into the funky oil-drums turned booths and sipped spiced energon contemplatively.

Gradually more mecha trickled in one by one or in groups. Blurr greeted the newcomers and entertained the onlookers with bar tricks whilst preparing energon orders with flair. Those bar-tending courses Rung had initially suggested as an activity to take his mind off stress did not go to a waste after all.

His patience was tested only once that night when an overcharged mech was overly insistent about discussing the political situation personally with Blurr which culminated in the blue speedster actually yelling at the mech that he was not inclined to discuss political matters at the moment. That made Ratchet and Ironhide chortle in their booth.

In general though, a look at the ledger indicated that it had been a good night. Blurr had actually earned back what he had spent for the evening and there was a little extra overhead which he could invest into something else. Ratchet and Ironhide had excused themselves early. Jazz apologized for having to leave right after his performance - something small but important had come up. The bar slowly emptied and it was Blaster who was the last to leave the establishment.

-"Need some help cleaning up?"

-"Na, I'll do it tomorrow. Recharge now." Blurr stretched and yawned, content with the results of the opening night. "And thank you for coming over and just being there."

-"We got your back, Zippy."

Blurr good-naturedly bumped his fist against Blaster's forearm. -"Tease. See you at the big important meeting thing?"

-"Oh, you mean just reaffirming the first somewhat serious peace treaty since the beginning of this Pit-forsaken war?"

-"Heh, I'll believe it when I see it." Blurr shrugged.

Several days later a small parcel arrived at Blurr´s door. It was square and flat and surprisingly lightweight. Blurr blinked and chuckled in delight when he saw its contents. Embroidered on an earth-style canvas stood the winged phrase of the opening evening. "I will not discuss politics with you!"

* * *

Blurr is not apolitical per-se, he just hates discussing it with drunk people.

I did not come up with the ´End of the world party´, according to one continuity it was hosted at least 4 consecutive times at Maccadam´s old oil house and at least once by Blurr himself soo, yeah!


	4. I'm not here for your entertainment

Blurr meets an old friend.

* * *

The memorial ceremony was solemn, the mechs who had previously volunteered to give speeches to commemorate the fallen comrades did so while the rest of the attendants wandered the grounds.

A wall remaining from a bombed building had been repurposed as the canvas of the memorial structure. Admittedly it was a collaboration between what passed for architects of the both factions - Constructicons, a team of bots headed by Wheeljack and a handful of mecha with Lightbright in charge to represent the neutrals.

The structure was made so it incorporated a mishmash of aesthetics without offending anybody. The names of those confirmed fallen in the war had been etched upon the flat face of the wall without distinction of factions, merely following the order of neocybex. More spaces were left blank in case somebody had been forgotten and a handful of hand-carved names was already in place. The jagged ruins were backlit, the illumination casting the etched glyphs in eerie light.

The entire expanse of the structure covered in names served as a physical reminder of the sparks lost to war, rows upon rows of designations of mecha Blurr had not known personally but had heard of. Here and there he saw a more familiar set of glyphs. Smiling sadly Blurr knelt and traced his fingertips over the name of the comrade he used to work with closely but who's fate he hadn't been sure of.

He followed along the wall, scanning the glyphs until he encountered his own name… Brow furrowing, he looked at the glyphs again, perhaps he had misread it...no, apparently not.

He looked around, judging by the relieved gasps and friendly bumping of helms from the Decepticon ranks his had not been the only name added faultily. Blurr's gaze softened as he wondered if the mistake had been intentional - a little something to alleviate the mood and give mecha some hope, especially for those who had gone MIA.

The discovery drew more mecha to pay attention to the wall, both Autobot and Decepticon, it was refreshing, somehow equalizing. In this light former enemies looked just like ordinary people, helping each other to locate the names of their dear ones and being relieved at not seeing the designations there. Sad, elated or scornful, each capable of emotion, not immune to pain and loss. In this solemn setting there were no factions they were in this together.

-"Agent Blurr?" A red optic seemed to glow just a tad brighter. -"What a surprize."

Blurr twitched, suppressing a desire to bolt and came to an abrupt realization that his musings had one big exception. That exception was Shockwave. Shockwave was not ´people´, he was so far removed from notion of 'people' he could have been a planet of his own; a cold, uninhabitable planet with claws.

Blurr vented, he could do this. -"Yes, commander, it appears you have become sloppy in your line of work." He drew heavily on his reserves of nonchalance and took a gulp of the fancy fizzy energon, wincing as the bubbles made their way up his olfactory sensors. He hoped that was all the decepticon had to say, Blurr was proven wrong.

-"Regardless, I am glad for it. To your health?" The Decepticon tilted his cube slightly, Blurr almost spat his energon.

Shockwave then focused on the part of the wall Blurr had scrutinised before, noticing the racer's designation.

\- "Ah, a correction is in order don´t you think?" Without further ado Shockwave reached for the spot in the wall where Blurr's name was and with one long, sharp claw pulled a scratch across it.

The screeching of metal against concrete made Blurr's audios bleed, he was earnestly surprised the cube he had been holding had not shattered. The act did not come across as friendly either - more like removing the name from the hit list.

If anyone was to remove or otherwise alter his name on this wall it was Blurr himself, the racer´s fists tightened at being patronized by somemech who had no right to even look in his direction. In Blurr's opinion the 'con couldn't make himself any less likeable.

Luckily Jazz was quick to materialise by Blurr's his side. -"Nice meeting ya, commander Shockwave." Seeing the scratched up wall, his visor took a knowing glint. -"Ah I see, the list must have been compiled from old data."

-"Indeed."

-"Sorry to cut this short but I believe Blurr is needed elsewhere so I will have to take him away now, I hope you don't mind yeah?"

-"Agent Jazz, a moment." Shockwave had the gall to actually stop them. -"I believe agent Blurr and perhaps Autobot contingent in general should be made aware of a certain… particularity if the factions are to remain in close contact." Shockwave contemplated his cube for a moment before continuing. -"By decepticon standards surviving an assassination attempt is considered a favourable trait when it comes to choosing partners."

It took an unusually long time for Blurr to process this information. -"Wu-what?! How does that even work?"

-"Would you like a demonstration?"

Blurr wanted to melt into the ground from embarrassment and at the same time - he desperately wanted to do Something. He was not entirely sure what but it entailed Shockwave and a world of pain. Luckily for diplomatic negotiations Jazz intervened.

-"I fear that is a bit too much intel at the moment, commander but thank you for the heads-up." Jazz made a cordial gesture and pulled the stunned Blurr away before any more damage befell him.

-"Speak to me mech." Blurr came to while Ratchet was snapping fingers in his face. -"There we go." His optics were still a shade too pale to be considered normal but at least he was out of his stupor. Sitting on one of the memorial area benches Blurr shuddered, it was as if months of therapy and adjustment had been thrown out the window.

-"That's it, I am putting a restraining order on his aft." Ratchet concluded, crossing arms over his chest. He did not need anyone to tell him who exactly had put Blurr in this state, he had a pretty good idea.

-"I think you might want to barr the entire decepticon faction off my tailppipe if anything Shockwave said was actually true."

-"What Did he say?" Ratchet´s optics narrowed to seething slits.

Jazz clued the medic in and the both younger mechs looked at him hoping that he would deny it. Ratchet sighed, resigned, better tell them now than deal with fallout later. -"It is somewhat true, though it may as well not mean anything. If we apply this logic, anyone in this place could be considered hot stuff by Decepticon standards."

-"So that explains the looks Megatron had for OP."

-"That explains Starscream."

-"That is seriously messed up." Blurr rubbed his optics, if anything he and Longarm had shared translated to Shockwave's personal fancies Blurr was more than likely to find himself compromised.

-"General Strika explained it as proof of strong spark and endurance. Having a strong mate makes sense if you are a warbuild. Anyhow, I have been lead to believe they are also usually pretty adamant about the consent thing when it comes to courtship, so you are in no immediate… oh what am I saying. This is a disaster waiting to happen." Ratchet gulped down the highgrade Jazz had offered and paced, casting a look around.

Bumblebee was having fun with Blitzwing, or one of the several personas he was, maybe all of them. Shockwave was engrossed in conversation with Perceptor, Blaster and Soundwave seemed to be covering some common ground and Strika had resigned herself to observation post much like Ratchet himself had before the dramatic younglings came over.

-"You are coming home with me tonight." Jazz stated adamantly to what the blue racer just nodded, distracted.

-"Wait, you spoke with The Strika?" Unusually slow for himself, Blurr had caught up with the conversation.

Ratchet shrugged it off without much comment. They had been expected to mingle and if he had to choose between her, Lugnut or one of the surviving clones, well, he was happy he had not ended up with Shockwave in any case.

* * *

Enter Shockwave: Stage left!

Exit Blurr's peace of mind: Stage right!


	5. Business not as usual

Running a bar is difficult business

* * *

Blurr´s strong position on discussing politics in his workplace drew various, oft-suspicious types of mecha to the doorstep of his bar. His aversion to having unproductive conversations with overcharged patrons had somehow been translated into him being politically neutral. Which meant that Decepticons started frequenting his establishment.

He made a little vent, wondering what this evening would bring, he already had to pull apart several skirmishes between the opposing factions and the evening had not fully started yet. Fortunately most of the times aggression was not aimed at Blurr personally. Which was not to say that he would not have gotten hurt impersonally had the things gone South. Eyeing a couple of burly Decepticons as they entered, Blurr made a huge reminder to himself to hire a bouncer at his earliest convenience.

Prowl had been of opinion that establishments like Blurr's should be a more common occurrence if they wanted the peace to last. Not like it made things any easier, luckily this evening Jazz was on stage and the patrons were just a hair more willing to behave themselves.

Though this evening came with trouble of a different kind. Shockwave… of all people, after the memorial event, how even dared he? Blurr felt his tanks lurch and he botched a catch of a bottle he'd been juggling at the moment, scrambling to catch it in time. It drew peals of laughter from the onlookers, laughter Blurr could live with.

Gathering all his professionalism he leaned against the bar and glared into the red glowing disc.

-"What do you want?" There went diplomacy and inter-faction friendliness.

-"A cube Vosian-style highgrade would be nice." The answer was polite and devoid of any inflection.

Blurr was not sure why he had expected anything different, really, they were in a bar, he was a bartender and, considering their current political atmosphere Shockwave Was just another client, at least in theory. In reality he was also a massive creep and manipulator so Blurr did not allow himself a luxury of assuming his visit had been incidental.

-"Coming right up! If I may ask, why this place?" Blurr blurted out in a manner which he hoped sounded like a matter-of-fact speech.

-"The nature of your establishment." Shockwave indicated at the little framed embroidery that hung over the bar.

Blurr wanted to eat his words, regardless, the emproidery had arrived to his doorstep before Decepticons had, it was staying. Sadly, apparently so was Shockwave.

True to his nature, the large decepticon collected his order and slunk off to some dark corner, remaining innocuous during the remainder of the evening. At some point Blurr almost forgot Shockwave was there. Ha, ha, who was he kidding? His senses were constantly tuned in on the large figure towering in the shadows of one of the booths.

-"Hey there, my mech!" Jazz hopped on the bar stool after Blurr had announced the final rounds. Shockwave had not moved from his spot and that drove the blue speedster up the wall. Appearance of Jazz, now finished with his performance, brought relief so intense almost wanted to kiss him.

The black and white Polyhexian was all smiles and good humor as he discreetly canted his head in direction of the booth to which Shockwave had resigned himself. -"Need help closing the ledger?"

-"Yes, yes, that would be ." Only then did Blurr notice that he had lapsed into his hurried speech pattern.

-"No prob!" Jazz took it in stride though his visor took on a sharper color of blue. -"Whenever you need me, just ask."

Shockwave left 15 kliks before closing time without as much as a glance in Blurr's or Jazz's direction.

Blurr shivered, he honestly thought he needed a glass of Vosian highgrade himself.

They closed up in record time, with Jazz helping with cleaning the tabletops while the cleaning drones took on the floor and Blurr assessed his stocks. He hummed, some grades of energon were running low.

-"You would not mind me rehearsing here now and then would you?"

-"Not at all, and, thank you, really. I appreciate it greatly though I also know it might be a it too much to ask."

-"You can always ping me if the old hornhead appears and if I am not available, ping Blaster or anyone else you know. Do not stay alone with him."

Jazz's look was knowing, too knowing for Blurr's comfort. -"You know, don't you."

His companion shrugged. -"We all make mistakes. Furthermore back then you did not know all of it and now that does not matter anymore."

Blurr´s tank sank, who else had made the connection?

Sensing Blurr's distress, Jazz reassured him -"From what I know nobody else is aware of that and Ratchet is all about confidentiality. But I would not put it past the Shockwave to try something." He stopped himself though, seeing that his insight was not helping and Blurr looked like he was going to have a breakdown.

-"Aw, love." Jazz hopped on the bar table and elegantly twirled landing off on the other side so that now he stood beside Blurr. In one quick gesture motioned the speedster to sit on one of the tall bar stools and assumed the role of a bartender, adding just a tiny bit of mockery into his tone to tease Blurr.

-"Well now, dear bartender, Since it is the afterhours, let me know which kind of beverage would trigger your fancy." Blurr snorted although it did come out as a part-sob, eventually it did translate into laughter as Jazz hopped around balancing a glass on the ridge of his nose. They stayed like this long after the closing and Blurr offered Jazz to stay over for the night, he really, really did not want to be alone.

Jazz obliged, pinging Prowl. They talked and for the first time ever Blurr opened up about his relationship with Longarm. Jazz did not judge, just listened and Blurr did feel better after getting that off his chest.

Humming and thoughtful Jazz offered a perspective Blurr had not been completely ready to hear. -"You have to be honest with yourself about your feelings for him, uh, them. Otherwise you will be in a tight spot."

Blurr looked crestfallen, he knew it but having someone else tell him that was jarring. -"O-ofcourse I do not want tohaveanythingwithHim." He vented and regained his center. -"I mean, he used me, toyed with me and then tried to offline me." His words rang true but lacked conviction.

Jazz only grimaced at this. -"Fancies are odd beasts which function on their own accords. It is Ok for you to still have feelings for Longarm, don´t torment yourself over it. Just because the mech was a fake, it does not mean he was less real to you." Being skilled at subterfuge himself, Jazz was acutely aware of this.

Blurr referred to the fact which had injured him the most - the betrayal. -" I bet from his point of view our relationship never overstepped professional boundaries. It literally was his job." Blurr stated bitterly but with a little less shame this time and more resentment.

With his act, not only had Shockwave shattered his sense of frame integrity, he had deprived him of his chances of being close to anyone again, for fear of putting trust into another. Before Blurr could sink into that tar pit of bitterness Jazz poked him on the forehelm.

-"Hey mech, you're doing good, now it is time for you to do things for yourself, let the time do the rest."

* * *

Difficult feels here.


	6. Wolves without teeth

Cameos, cameos all over the place.

Also known as me going on a tangent in story format.

* * *

Blurr grinned, drinking in the excited energy of the crowd. By the nightfall the racetrack was full; both racers and onlookers walked about both admiring and showing off. Mods and biolight decorations ranging from gorgeous to bizarre could be spotted all over the place. It was surprising, considering that the planet was still recovering and most of them had been warriors at some point.

One heavy duty truck drew Blurr's attention, the modified smokestacks spat tongues of flames every time the mech revved his engine. What helped matters was that the mech was uncannily similar to Ultra Magnus. That made Jazz and Ricochet snicker as Blaster took image shots. Blurr had a faint idea where those were going to end up. If things were going like they were, Ultra Magnus was in for an awakening sooner than later. This had given some pranksters in their office (much to Ratchets' chargin') an incentive to start photo-editing images of the stasis-locked Magnus into various unlikely locations. The end-result was to be a picture file of Magnuss' travel around the universe while he was still in stasis.

Leaving the trio of his ex-colleagues to their own devices, Blurr went to greet several of his speedster acquaintances. He spotted the familiar mint plating of Moonracer in the crowd, having spotted him as well she waved back.

Bouncing on his tires, Blurr shifted weight from one foot to another, he could not Wait. It was his first nigthtrace since forever and he craved speed and excitement, the fact that the races were not entirely legal (as in they were not officially prohibited) was just the rust stick on top. He double-checked his stabilizers and suspension, jiggling one leg to alleviate the tension in one of his springs. They were to take their positions.

Readjusting his plating, Blurr transformed into his alt mode and slid into his allotted place at the start line, revving his engine a couple of times for emphasis. The competition was tight tonight, Moonracer was very good, so was Sideswipe, though he was more of a wild card, Blurr was surprised how he had not yet been kicked out but oh well. A golden lambo drew up on his other side, ah, twins, never apart. Then the last contestant drew up - the second red automobile in this race with a sheen to rival Sunstreaker's, Blurr did not recognize the newcomer but that was not wholly unusual, not with more mecha returning to Cybertron.

He returned his attention to the race, his plating itched, the countdown was about to start: 3...2...1… GO!

He was off like a bolt of blue lightning. Moonracer drew up next to him moments later, she had a slower reaction time but she compensated that with great strategic thinking, having already surpassed the twins who were locked in a competition of their own as it seemed.

-"See you at the finish line gorgeous!" She yelled and sped off.

If Blurr could grin in his alt mode, he would have. He was not even warm yet, increasing the throttle, he bolted after the mint racer. They tried maneuvering each other into tight spots but soon realized that they were going to be surpassed by a golden Earthen alt which now sported a few nicks and dents. It looked like the twins had settled their dispute for tonight, which probably meant that Sideswipe had been pushed off the track somewhere.

Blurr was first to notice incoming Sunstreaker and if an extra set of headlights behind them was anything to go by, the mysterious racer of the evening was gaining on them as well, so he bolted off.

Moonracer had once told him that finishing with a flair was so very Velocitron it was almost a law. To her benefit Blurr had been practicing, really. Just meters before finish he transformed into his root mode and skidded the last meters on his foot wheels, leaving double marks on the pavement. Jazz, Ricochet and Blaster had been waiting at the finish line with scorecards in hand (Prowl had excused himself from attending since it conflicted with his schedule).

The three mecha held up their grades for the finishing flair alone ( -3.14, 76, and 11, respectively). Since it did not really influence the outcome of the race none of them pretended that they had a clear idea about how Velocitronian grading worked. Moonracer was amused despite herself when they scored Her, so it was all good fun.

* * *

Bumblebee perched on the stool and rested his elbows against the bar table.

-"I want to have the strongest thing on the list."

It was his first time at the oil house and he was buzzing with energy and excitement. Blurr did not want to come across as condescending but his better judgement told him that perhaps it was not the best type of beverage for the little mech. Smiling brightly, Blurr initiated evasive maneuvers.

-"Hmm, how about oil house special?"

Bumblebee's optics lit up. Probably because the name had word 'Special' in it.

-"What's it have inside?"

Blurr hid his hesitation by spinning a bottle on his index finger. -"Jet-grade energon with iron shavings and a rust stick infusion." Not a lie, but definitely not the strongest thing in his reserves. Luckily Bee also seemed to like the option.

While Blurr was busy preparing Bumblebee's order the minibot settled for clueing him in the latest gossip. By now Blurr was good at zoning out the chatter but a couple of key words drew his attention back to the yellow bot.

-"...I was really surprised too, you know how surly Ratch is about the entire 'con business and, have you seen his finials? They are like huge, above his head!"

The yellow bot emphasized it by extending arms above his head in an attempt to give a full visual on just how long. Blurr blinked, recognizing the description, as he poured the jet-grade carefully into the cube, directing the flow along the spoon, making sure not to disturb the layers of liquid for maximum visual effect. Content with the result Blurr turned his attention to Bumblebee who had by then started talking at a larger mech on his right.

No point of disturbing them, Blurr turned to another customer, pondering. Ratchet and a decepticon swordsmech, an unlikely pairing considering how many mechs had ended up on Ratchet's operation table Because of the 'con. There had to be something more to it, there always was, especially with mecha as old as Ratchet. Still, Blurr was curious and considering that Jazz was a literal secret storage powerhouse...it was time he paid him a visit anyway...

* * *

Blurr closed his bar early twice in the the decacycle. Something he did in order to manage paperwork and address any administrative issues related to his establishment. Today however he had ordered a box of energon goodies and a bottle of fine hi-grade.

Balancing the goods precariously on one hand he keyed the door locked with the other. There, it was about time he visited Jazz. For all the support the mech had provided and continued to invest into the speedster and also to have a chat rather than a work - environment conversation.

Though Jazz did not let it show, he had been looking more distracted lately and Blurr had insisted… he just really hoped he was not treading on any Polyhexian sensitivities but he did not know how to show his concern otherwise.

Taking one last look at the reinforced door, Blurr heard a scraping noise in the alley behind him. Oh no, he had no desire to deal with random street hostilities. Sure he could outrun the pursuers but he was less convinced that the goodies would make it intact.

He was spared further musings when a black cyber cat slunk out of the shadows.

-"No offense but could you be a bit less stalky?" Relief was evident in Blurr's voice.

The creature groomed in that odd fashion characteristic to their kind, which entailed spreading oral lubricants over their frame. Blurr pushed That thought aside and waited patiently if the bot had anything else to add. When it finally spoke, it sounded mildly amused.

-"Could you be less paranoid?"

Ravage was not a frequent visitor but if Blurr was to run his business as an open for all joint, all casettibots had to be welcome, not only Blaster's crew. Which meant, right, he'd forgotten to order a stash of smaller saucers and cubes for his diverse patrons. Something that normally would not have happened had he not been long overdue for a defrag. But free-roaming Decepticons and business matters kept his recharge lightweight and interrupted. Blurr attempted to be polite regardless.

-"How is your crew?"

If bar banter was anything to go by, Ravage and his two other associates were looking for a hostmech. Which was probably the reason why the cybercat came in the first place. Still, finding a compatible mech now was nigh-impossible, finding one for not 1 but 3 mechs, was a task in its own. Blurr could understand the frustration.

-"Still looking."

-"I see, well…" Blurr did not know what to add, Ravage was one of those bots who did not appreciate baseless optimism, so such phrases as 'You'll figure it out' or 'I'm sure you'll find someone' would have probably vexed him more than anything. Blurr floundered a bit and then finished with a lame -"I should be on my way, good evening to you."

The cat nodded in acknowledgement and slunk away, melding into the shadows once it left the small pool of light created by a light fixture above the entrance.

Blurr turned to make his leave as well, oblivious to the dark shape slumped in the bottom of the alleyway.

Jazz lived in a little nook in the former artists district, the buildings that had survived the war were a testament to the lovely architecture cybertronians were capable of generating. It was not cheap and if Blaster was to be trusted - cramped; regardless Jazz would ardently defend his choice of accommodation. An accommodation which, by all means should have been lit.

Unease clutched at Blurr's spark for the second time that night. Curious, he double-checked the address, it was correct, he rang the intercom...still nothing. Was he early, was Jazz late? Maybe something came up in the command center but he was sure that Jazz would have let him know in advance.

Hesitantly he commed the mech, nothing, sent a message, a ping, still nothing. Setting down the bottle and the box on the pavement, Blurr started pacing, a habit he had weaned himself off of soon after resigning from spec ops. Worrying brought all that back.

Resigned, he sent a message to Blaster, Ratchet, Ricochet and Prowl, all the time admonishing himself for being overly nervous, if anyone, Jazz was the mech who could take care of himself, Blurr was probably just blowing all this out of proportion.  
Two messages bounced back - Ratchet appeared busy, Prowl came back as nonexistent, Blurr frowned, must have been a glitch, finally, Blaster sent him a short note.

-"Jazz is hurt, come over to the Iacon Central."

* * *

TOO MANY CAMEOS

Ultra Magnus is the traveling garden gnome of Cybertron. For those of you unfamiliar with the practice, It consists of taking the gnome from its location in the garden unbeknownst to the owners and sending the owners postcards with the said gnome in famous places. Since is sort of unmovable, they decided to photoshop him into different locations because that is what concerned colleagues do for you when you are in a coma.


	7. Waking up

Welcome to the next chapter!  
Originally I had it all nicely written up but of course I could not stick with the original story flow. Enjoy the shenanigans.

* * *

Blurr felt foolish entering the clinic with his bottle of hi-grade and energon goodies. Their initial purpose now null and void. He planned to subspace them but then thought better of it and handed them to the mecha working in reception of the clinic, Primus knew they deserved it.

There already were faint murmurs coming from the waiting room. Blurr poked his helm inside cautiously and saw Blaster, Optimus and Ricochet and...surprisingly...Strika? Probably for diplomatic negotiations, considering the gravity of the situation.

-"Uh, hi there, how's Jazz?"

Blaster was the only one who retained enough attention to answer him.

-"Ratchet's working on him right now."

-"What happened?"

\- "From how I found him it looked like Jazz had hurt himself."

Blurr blinked and realised he was still part-hovering in the hallway and thus slid in completely closing the door behind him. The entire situation made little sense though.

-"You mean someone attacked him and made it look…"

This time it was Ricochet who answered.

-"Too early to say, I guess only Jazz can answer that."

Blurr was completely confused, there must have been a misunderstanding, a cleverly-disguised trickery, or an accident? No way would Jazz out of all mecha cause himself harm. Only physical presence of Strika prevented Blurr from voicing his thoughts of this being a Decepticon ploy or vendetta.

-"I apologize for bringing politics into such a delicate matter but I feel it is necessary to repeat that this was not sanctioned by the Decepticons." Strika stated.

Blurr could understand, awkward as it was, their peace was young and fragile at best, still, it was odd having her in the room. It felt like it was one mech too many, and at the same time - one mech missing. Shouldn't Prowl be here? Blurr was under impression he and Jazz were close.

-"Did anyone inform Prowl? I couldn't reach him."

Silence settled in the room, optics shifted and Blurr had a feeling that he had said something wrong. Strika looked like she wanted to say something but did not want to overstep some boundaries of courtesy. It was Optimus who spoke up, however.

-"I believe we owe you an apology for that. We have been of a remiss to tell you; since your disappearance some things had changed."

-"We figured you knew… but come to think of it, since you resigned the same day you returned you were not updated about the rosters…" Blaster trailed off.

Blurr had a sinking feeling he had missed something very crucial. Had Prowl left the service or, had Jazz and Prowl broken up? But that made no sense if the way Jazz mentioned him was anything to go by.

-"Prowl died." Optimus finally delivered the finishing blow. -"On mission back on Earth, he sacrificed himself in the final battle, we believe his spark now rests with the AllSpark."

-"But Jazz spoke on his behalf."

-"We know." Blaster looked remorseful as he spoke, as if that had been his fault entirely.

Blurr blinked repeatedly, he needed to sit down. This made no sense, stubbornly his processor tried coming up with plausible explanations which still made sense to him; was there another mech named 'Prowl'? He worked his jaw, trying to form words but none came out. Blurr looked from one speaker to another as the new information settled in, with a sinking feeling in his tanks Blurr realized that he had been blind.

-"We thought it was his way of dealing with the loss."

The mech clearly had not been well, and They had known...Blurr Should have known, should have asked. This begged a question, how much Did Blurr know about Jazz outside their casual cooperation and Jazz's willingness to protect the racer.

Strika excused herself, explaining that she was needed to conduct internal investigation in Decepticon quarters to make sure it had not been an underhanded attempt from the Decepticon ranks after all. Just because Jazz refused to accept Prowl's passing did not mean he would resort to hurting himself on purpose.

When Ratchet did emerge from the operation room, he had the look of a mech who had seen a star extinguish.

-"He'll live but he will remain under for a while longer."

There was a flurry of questions about the recuperation prognoses and spark stability. Blurr noticed Ratchet being rather reluctant to provide the answers to the questions related to the nature of the injury and Blurr felt that he was purposefully avoiding to mention some facts before Jazz himself had a say about it.

Eventually the elderly medic just kicked everybody out of the waiting room promising to ping them once Jazz was out of stasis.

* * *

Weak morning light filtered through the dimmed windows of the old oil house perpetuating the dream-like state Blurr found himself since the evening before. The concrete walls felt fuzzy somehow, few things had changed and yet, everything had changed and Blurr found himself strangely removed from reality. Probably what contributed to his detached demeanor was the fact that he had not recharged that night, chasing thoughts and speculations until he'd resorted to running laps around his block to stop himself from overthinking.

Now, tired and wary, he resigned himself to manual work. Welder in hand and a protective face mask on, he was fixing the new lighting equipment to the wall.

His doorbell rang. Queue sigh.

-"The bar is not open yet!" Blurr hollered from where he had been precariously perched on the service ladder.

Then thinking better of it he climbed down and hauled his aching, tired chassis to open for whoever had decided to pay him a visit that late morning.

The mech at the door took a cautious step back after being faced with a surly visored mech with a blowtorch, to his credit he quickly collected himself -"Whoa, I mean, forgive my intruding but I heard you were looking for a bouncer?"

Blurr realized he was still wearing the welding mask and apologized, lifting it and extinguishing the welder as well. His optics traveled over the prominent blue chestplate and onto the purple insignia, internally Blurr winced. He was not ready to deal with more complications yet, regardless, he schooled his expression to calm placidity, not all cons were created equal, he reminded himself.

-"That is right, how did you get to know about it?" Blurr had not yet been ready for the information to go public. Sure, he had discussed it with Blaster and Jazz in form of small-talk but not as something official...

-"I, uh, word of mouth? Look, I know I´m a ´con and all, but…"

Blurr stopped him there, remembering his manners and gesturing for the mech to come in rather than having the conversation on the threshold.

-"Don't depreciate yourself. I have my servos full at the moment but how about you send me data about whatever previous work experience you have and I will take a look at it."

The mech meandered some, inspecting the interior, as if he wanted to add something.

-"Right, my comm-link..." Blurr realised his own mishap and approached the newcomer.

-"No, it´s not that!" It was somewhat charming to see the larger mech fluster like that, Blurr concluded, the mech was kind of cute in the burly, angular sort of way. -"I mean, yes but my career can be summarized by blasting bots to peaces and construction work prior to that."

Blurr pinned him with a curious look, if the mech had resolve to not turn violent at the slightest provocation… chances were most mecha fit for a position of a bouncer would be larger frames, who tended to be Decepticons anyway… Blurr stopped himself there, the events of the previous night were making him soft-sarked. He would need to run some background checks on this one.

-"What´s your name?"

-"Breakdown."

-"Well, Breakdown, send me a list of your skills then. Also I must warn you that currently I can´t offer much in regards of salary but you also do not have to work every night."

The mech seemed to consider this and with a word of thanks left. That left Blurr with fuel for thought and another subject for research - the working rights of the mecha or whichever version of the employee rights they were currently following. He clambered up the ladder again, with a jerk of his helm he flipped the welding mask back in place and proceeded welding the hooks in place.

His doorbell rang once more, Breakdown must have forgotten something. This time Blurr sent the command for the door to open automatically, focusing the fresh weld to see if it took.

-"Welcome back, you had more questions?"

...

There was a pregnant pause, whoever the newcomer was it had not been Breakdown. Blurr should have realized before - the tread of the newcomer was much softer, and now they were probably confused by the sudden question. -"As a matter of fact, I do."

Slowly Blurr turned around and was grateful that the welding mask obscured his features. Instinctively his plating clamped just a bit more snugly against his protoform. He dug his digits into the service ladder for dear life and was adamant about retaining this high ground. He forced himself to speak rather than dropping into a stupor, little victories.

-"The position of bouncer is already taken. And if me ignoring you before did not speak volumes then let me reiterate - Not Interested. Take a hint, Shockwave, or Longarm or what it is that you call yourself these days."

-"I´m sure you´ve heard about the enforcer project..." Shockwave chose to ignore Blurr´s remark and continued. -"The office is inviting mecha from both factions to contribute their specifications to the design."

-"Uh-uh?" Blurr allowed himself to turn his attention back to the lighting fixture, fastening the cabling segment to the hook he had just welded to the wall. He was aware of the fact that they were indeed low on enforcers and that the joint Autobot/Decepticon science team were designing enforcer drones with Vector Sigma aiming to remove the bias towards factions.

Blurr had received several offers to contribute due to his speed matrix, he did not want to because he did not want to feel like an experiment and mostly, because of Shockwave.

-"I was asked to inform you about it, personally." Shockwave pronounced the last word following a slight pause.

Gee, that must have meant they Really wanted him, Blurr actually laughed at this. -"Seriously? So from a secret agent you are now promoted to a messenger?"

A twitch of Shockwave's antennae was the only external indicator of him feeling anything about this task. Internally he was certain this was one of the many ways Sentinel was trying to get under his plating, probably Blurr´s too; considering their past.

-"Hardly a bother, now I have the pleasure to move through Iacon without needing a disguise."

-"Who sent you?"

-"Sentinel´s orders." Sentinel was a steward to Magnus´s position for time being, Shockwave´s blatant refusal to acknowledge the title earned him some points with Blurr. Not like it mattered though.

-"He´s finally lost his mind huh?" Blurr allowed himself to bask in vindictive glee that it was Shockwave and not him who had to work with that insufferable extension cord.

-"I´m afraid he might be inclined to use more persuasive methods if you do not comply."

That made Blurr´s temper blaze faster than a torch and canister of fuel-grade energon. He turned around to look Shockwave in the faceplates, blue optics ablaze with pure, undistilled fury, through the narrow visor of the welding mask it looked like his entire face had gone supernova.

-"I will not tolerate being threatened, Shockwave." Blurr hissed, feeling his plating flare in a manner that would have been intimidating had it not been for their drastic size difference.

-"I have no need to threaten you, consider it an advance caution."

Something snapped, Blurr wanted to clamp his mouth but did not manage. -"Why do you even care what happens to me? It is hardly any friendly co-worker feelings because for one, we were not working together, you worked for Yourself and Your cause. By extension the prospect of working below you or With you rummaging through my circuitry is abhorrent to me." He realized he was not making much sense as his personal feelings of hurt mingled with their train of conversation. Regardless, being angry was better than terrified.

-"Secondly...no, I think that is enough." Blurr stopped not because he ran out of what to say but because he was starting to tremble and his speech started glitching.

-"Indeed, anything else?" Shockwave stepped closer and Blurr took note of just how tall the mech was and how easily he could reach him if he so chose. This pushed the blue racer to climb the rafters, pull his extremities as close to himself as possible and hold the ignited welder between himself and Shockwave like a weapon. He did not have to put up with this.

-"NoGoawayNowPlease."

-"A simple answer is enough, there is no need for dramatics."

-"That is a PerfectlyValidResponseToYourPresence."

-"Blurr? Are you alright?" Blurr´s chest constricted, the bastard almost sounded like he cared. The racer wanted to tear into Shockwave for what he had done. But more than that he just wanted to be left alone.

Shockwave paused, having received a comm, though his optic stayed focused on Blurr´s tense frame. -"Oh dear, I regret to leave you in this state but I am afraid I am needed elsewhere. And Blurr, try to keep your comm-lines primed, I believe your former colleagues will be attempting to contact you shortly."

Blurr didn´t move from the rafters and Shockwave saw himself out. Once the door slid shut, Blurr pulled off the welding mask, making it clatter to the floor below, buried his face in his hands and keened. His struts finally succumbed to violent shaking, vents flaring with the sobs.

Memories he had buried deep in his processor resurfaced, making him keen only stronger. Longarm´s warmth and security, soft whispers in the night, the attention, the exquisite ministrations to his frame... the promise of always. It was too much, Blurr hated himself for being so weak, still so much in need of reassurance. He wished Jazz was there, by his side and probably most selfishly he wished that at least part of what Longarm had told him had been true...

Resigned he reclined his helm against the juncture between the load bearing pillar and the support beam, releasing the tension that whacked his frame in one spark-felt and pained howl. It left him panting, a little less frazzled, a little more bitter, but that was ok, he assured himself shakily, he could do it.

Moments later his comm exploded.

Blaster had been first to get through. -"Jazz's online."

Ricochet - "Jazz´s woken up."

Optimus -"I thought you would want to know that Jazz just came online."

Ratchet - "Get your aft here."

Blurr braced himself, it was time to get his scrap together; out there was a mech that needed help, Jazz would not be alone in this.

All systems go, the sun hasn't died  
Deep in my bones, straight from inside

I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones  
Enough to make my systems blow  
Welcome to the new age

(Imagine Dragons, Radioactive)

* * *

So here we see Blurr's breaking point. Yep, still fragile.


	8. Time and place

Things are moving in the background.

* * *

Shockwave had been truthful about the pleasure of not needing to use a disguise but old habits died hard and he felt somewhat more at ease wearing another bot's chassis. Moreover when he had quite a few mecha after his spark. Peacetime meant nothing when it came to vengeance. Shifting to a shape of a green camien frame he blended with the crowd.

The identity used to belong to an Autobot gone rogue, catalogued in his systems under code name 'Beta'. It was tall but slender, with wider hip struts than Shockwave's own but still a more comfortable fit than Longarm had been. It had been a while since he had used this particular frame but he decided to use it more often now that he was not forced into a role.

Ah, now he remembered the drawback of this frame - no alt mode… how inconvenient, alas, there was no shapeshifting in public, walking it was. He ventured on to the decepticon headquarters in Iacon. Being meticulous he even had a pass ID for a few of his alternative identities. Only the higher command had to know this. Everyone else just assumed it was another regular 'con working in the building.

Strika knew this disguise, however.

-"I has been a while since you showed this face."

According to her personal theory, when left to his own devices, Shockwave tended to favor some forms to others depending on his mood. The green no-alt was an indicator of Something but she was yet to determine what exactly. It has been millennia since she had seen him use it.

-"General, I received a comm for an emergency meeting." Shockwave melded gradually into his original shape.

-"Yes, you are right on time, Megatron, Soundwave and Blitzwing are already here. We have received alarming reports from several distant outposts."

* * *

Blurr was scheduled, that is, called in to visit Jazz in early afternoon and Ratchet had capitalized on his willing arrival by planning a surprise diagnostics run on his frame. Being a crafty mech with long experience in dealing with patients who avoided checkups Ratchet had planned Blurr's appointment Before his visit to Jazz.

Remaining courteous of the health establishment, Blurr knocked on the door of the med bay and waited for an answer.

-"...I'll get it!"

A new, pleasant voice. Who was that?

-"I'm sorry, Ratchet's currently with another patient but he will be with you shortly, please wait here."

Blurr stuttered for a moment, unable to find anything to say, white finials, red optics, dark face, ok That was definitely Deadlock, with hospital assistant decals. A Deadlock welcoming you to medbay set things in perspective.

-" I, ah, thank you." Meekly, Blurr sat down, trying not to stare as the end of those scabbards floated back behind the door.

Warily Blurr wondered how Ratchet himself felt about it. If he had even the smallest understanding of the old medic, Ratchet was probably happy that a 'con was helping out with his responsibilities, especially when one contemplated the mess that was the Jet twins.

-"Please take care of yourself and bye, Blurr, you're next." Deadlock waved off a dazed-looking mech with a bright smile and beckoned Blurr to enter. Briefly the racer wondered if most of the 'cons were this nice when one got past the murderous exterior.

Deadlock gently guided him to sit on the examination berth and promptly vacated the room.

Enter Ratchet with a frame scanner in hand. Blurr straightened up a bit, feeling the tingle caused by the device resonate through his plating.

-"That thing you are doing? Stop doing it."

-"Uh…"

-"When is the last time you went into defrag or, scratch that, recharged? Naps don't count."

Blurr looked at the medic a little guiltily. He admitted that not recently, not for a while. He was doing well on other fronts. He barely had memory purges lately...mostly because he did not recharge properly…

-"I will prescribe you a medical stasis patch. I must warn you that with it recharge feels more like falling into a hole, but it will allow you to defrag. Which is what we want."

-"But…"

-"You can administer it yourself. Plan in advance, it may take a day if not more. No later than within the next 5 days from this day though. It will expire otherwise and trust me I will know if it does."

Blurr accepted the patch reluctantly, his mouth pressed into a grim line. This was probably for the best even if he was unwilling to revisit whatever it was that dwelled at the bottom of his processor.

Ratchet wrapped up the examination fairly swiftly and directed Blurr to go see Jazz.

In the corridor leading to Jazz´s ward Blurr exchanged short greetings with Ricochet who was on his way out. Blurr paused before entering the room; doubt grated at his spark, he had been so determined before but now he could not even enter the room. He was so pathetic, how could he help Jazz if he was such a mess himself? Could he even bear to see the mech who had been his support and point of stability weak and hurting? Ashamed of his moment of weakness Blurr almost wanted to leave but this was not about him, Blurr reminded himself. It was about helping Jazz.

Blurr steeled himself and keyed the door open.

-"Hey!" The blue speedster was greeted by an easy smile from Jazz. It looked as if nothing had happened had it not been for his forearms covered in holo-foil.

-"You owe me an evening with energon." Blurr slumped on the chair for visitors trying to return that small smile.

-"Heh, mech, true. M´sorry about that." Jazz smiled a little, casting a glance back at his forearms.

-"Did someone attack you?"

Jazz didn't answer for a long moment and Blurr just waited patiently. The light in Jazz's visor dimmed and then lit up again.

-"I did this to myself, Blurr."

The simple, straightforward answer gaped between them like an unbreachable abyss. It was not flirty, not joking, nothing Blurr had come to expect from Jazz. How could Blurr even hope to reach out to Jazz like this?

Blurr bit down the obvious question and instead offered something else - "I'm glad you're still here though. And, I'm sorry about Prowl, I hadn't known..."

-" 's okay…"

-"If you are up for it, could you tell me more about him? I hadn't known Prowl all that well and, now I wish I had."

It was later that day that Deadlock knocked on the ward door and, after an apology, informed the both mechs that the visiting hours were at their end. Blurr reached out to squeeze the part of Jazz's hand that was not covered in bandages.

-"I'll come back tomorrow, comm me whenever you want."

Blurr left the med center on foot, he felt heavy and drained, the medical stasis chip bumped in his subspace like an unwanted piece of machinery he could not get rid of and now he had some scheduling to do on top of everything else. More than anything he needed a plan, Jazz was to stay under close surveillance, which in his case meant in drug-induced stasis because otherwise even Ratchet himself could not stop Jazz from what Jazz wanted to do.

-"Hey, Blurr, you ok?"

Blurr had spaced out at work that night. He apologized again and flashed a bright smile, asking the customer to repeat the order. That defrag was definitely long overdue but there were so many things happening around him.

He almost dropped the glass he had been holding when his internal comm pinged with a message and he rushed to see who it had been, hoping that it had been from Jazz.

It was from Breakdown, a full description of his skills.

* * *

Thanks for reading guys! This story is seriously blowing out of proportion.


	9. Paradise Lost

We find out a bit more about Jazz and Prowl. I promise this leads to the inevitable confrontation of Blurr and Shockwave.

* * *

-"So you have medical training?"

The blue bruiser shrugged, stating it had been useful on field. Decepticons were rather short on medical staff so it made sense.

They had perched at one of the empty bar chairs, it was morning and Blurr was not expecting any guests so it was a calmer venue for a job interview than an outdoor cafe or some other public area. Playing host Blurr had supplied two cubes of mid-grade and a stack of datapads to go over the legal matters with the mech.

Blurr was impressed by a rather extensive list of what Breakdown had learnt apart from his initially stated occupation of 'blasting bots to bits'. Bouncer or not, he could be useful otherwise as well, especially the fine motor skills which were rather unusual for an ex-construction bot to develop.

Blurr pinged the bot's credentials to Jazz, hoping he would be online at this hour and might appreciate exercising his information gathering skills. There was no immediate acknowledgement of having received the message so Blurr had to rely on his intuition alone.

-"How about a practice run tomorrow night?"

-"So, I just stand around and look angry?" To exemplify this Breakdown crossed his arms over his chest and pulled the meanest frown he could probably muster.

Blurr laughed, technically yes but no.

-"No, no, not angry, keep that as your trump card if somebody actually does something. We want to aim for friendly, courteous and open for all. Oh, and, hmm keeping it calm always, we do not want to murder troublesome patrons, just keep them from hurting themselves and the others." It was surprising how easy it was to talk to this 'con.

-"Uh, mind repeating from the middle? Usually I am not hard of hearing but I…" The mech actually fumbled, looking embarrassed and adorable. Blurr wandered how such a sweetspark could have been a decepticon, then the racer promptly kicked himself for zoning out of their conversation to see that Breakdown had not finished talking. "...I get I should not harm the customers but what if they manhandle you or me, or…. where do we draw the line?"

Wasn't that a great question. With the enforcer unit still under construction (no help from Blurr there) there were few officials authorized for pulling apart skirmishes or street violence and their resources were already stretched thin as it was.

-"How did your faction deal with this sort of mecha?" Blurr asked and earned a look of surprise from Breakdown.

-"Well… usually it was everyone for themselves and the barman and the bar were off-limits."

Blurr sighed, this model would not fly in his establishment, Autobots preferred safe and controlled environments. -"You will have to tell me more about Decepticons, Breakdown. It would be good to know what to expect."

They worked on this for several hours, drawing up solutions for the most likely situations with Blurr gauging the bruiser's reactions. It also helped him to bridge some gaps in his knowledge of Decepticons. Though being an undercover agent for centuries at a time had given him some understanding of Decepticon culture in certain aspects, there were instances which had been simply inaccessible to him.

On their parting they shook hands and Blurr was once again reminded about how mindful Breakdown was. They belonged to different weight, size and strength classes, yet the bruiser made sure to be careful and not crush or yank Blurr in any way.

* * *

It was almost time for him to go visit Jazz again.

The mech was contemplative, almost meditative as he hummed to himself lightly.

-"Jazz? Sorry to disturb you. How are you today?"

-"Hey mech, I got your comm, but I'm afraid that as of now I have restricted access to important intel. So 'm afraid all I can say is that the mech you were looking for does not appear on my personal databanks, which is not to say much."

In fact, it was to say a lot, because of the experience and time Jazz had spent on field and his ops training but this was not the most pressing matter.

-"Restricted? How so?"

-"I'm on probation for professional misconduct."

What? The look on Blurr's face probably reflected his thoughts. You did not put mechs on probation for this, it was just plain cruel, not to say unnecessary, which it also was.

-"Sentinel's lost his mind, I knew it before but still...I doubt he will let you go so easily."

-"I entered into a conjunx bond which, as you know, is prohibited in Elite Guard."

This was news, briefly Blurr wondered about the speed at which Jazz operated, since when and with whom? The mechanics of managing that stationed in medical ward during the brief moments between medical stasis and visitations were lost on Blurr.

-"I am still a bit shocked but I think congratulations are in order."

Jazz barked a short laugh and Blurr felt even more confused now. That had been the wrong thing to say and then it hit him like a freight train. He facepalmed.

-"Sorry, I'm an idiot." He slumped on the visitor chair, processor buzzing with all the necessary adjustments he had to make to what he already knew. -"It did not occurr to me at once that Prowl and you… I'm so sorry." No wonder Jazz took Prowl's demise the way he did. What Blurr was even more surprised about was - how Jazz had managed so well this far.

-"After he was assimilated by the AllSpark I could still hear his voice sometimes, ya know, like a broken record, thought it was all in my head but it didn't hurt so I let it. And one day it stopped."

Blurr was certain that Jazz had lost some of his processor functions due to grief but something about what Jazz had said niggled at him. Something he had heard from Optimus about AllSpark Specters or Data Ghosts. Now more than ever he wished he had clearance to access the files of the last battle on Earth.

Interpreting Blurr's reaction as disbelief, Jazz continued. -"I know that must sound crazy. Heck, I must sound crazy."

Blurr shook his helm. -"You are not crazy for missing someone you cared about, Jazz. Could you tell me more about the conjunx thing though? I mean, could you communicate like that while Prowl was still alive?"

* * *

Blurr darted down the hallway of the med center, he Had to speak to Ratchet, he had to speak to someone who would care and do the right thing rather than just follow the protocol.

-"I'm sorry but Ratchet is in the meeting right now." Deadlock replied with a sad smile. -"However, since you are a friend of Jazz's and I think it is him you wish to discuss, comm Ratchet in about one orn, you are not the only one who wants to hold council. Oh, and I hope you understand that this is for your audios alone."

Blurr subtly felt his spec-ops training kick in. Secrets of all kinds made it react, he stiffened and nearly saluted the other mech. -"Thank you Deadlock." He whispered.

-"Oh, Agent.. I mean Blurr? Would you mind calling me Drift from now?"

Mecha like these made Blurr seriously consider why they had been at war at all.

* * *

Alert, Alert, Ex-cons being cute

Personal note: should you wish to contact me in a language other than English, you are welcome to try Bulgarian, Dutch, French, German, Icelandic, Latvian, Polish, Russian or Spanish.


	10. Decomissioned

Inspiration theme for completing this chapter was theme song from Mr. Robot.

* * *

Blurr admired the sleek architecture of the central district of Iacon; the shiny structures differed so much from the east side docks where his bar was. It looked too idyllic, too much like the Golden Age he'd heard so much about - the ornate veneer over the shady dealings; his tanks churned at the thought. He laughed at himself for becoming too 'decepticon' after dealing with so many of them lately.

He passed the memorial, with the dramatic shadows of the night illumination gone it somehow managed looking more foreboding. There were more scratched-out designations and more added names. In a way it was a symbol of Cybertron slowly falling into a new flux.

Inadvertently his feet brought him to the gate of the command center. The monolythic structure now stood before him cold and inaccessible. From memory Blurr could recount the safety measures - a security check, a heavily-armed entryway and the entrance hall equipped with surveillance cameras, double-plated walls and whatever else that had been too classified for him to know. That was a representative front but, like many structures there always was a less-prestigious back door, which was (ironically) the incinerator chute and Blurr was a small enough mech.

The command archives should house the records from the battle on Earth, yet, now he could not enter without an invitation or a security pass...

Then again he was not a spec-ops for nothing.

He paused for a moment considering the idea. What would the repercussions be if he was caught? Had he ever been caught before? Save the time when he almost got offlined...and that other time with the Master Disaster which Blurr found both embarrassing and demeaning But not entirely his fault.

Circumstances were different now, however. He was a civilian without a military affiliation and the worst they could do was to detain him. It was worth a try...

He ventured to the service docks located behind the building, he'd gotten in through here a couple times before - when he had been young and forgotten his pass key and had been too embarrassed to ask for a temporary permit. Blurr smirked, seeing that the structure remained as it had been back in the day. A cyber-cat jumped off the tall ledge of the piping block and slunk away from the chutes so quickly it was impossible to tell whether or not it had been Ravage.

Blurr approached the piping, twirling a small diamond-tipped combat spade in his fingers. He had to give up most of his weapons and tools when he left But he had kept this one as a little memento. A ridiculous weapon by any standards, but a priceless tool for anyone who knew how to use it. He used the edge of the blade to loosen the bolts of one of the chute panels. Moments later he was inside the narrow pipe, keeping traction with the walls by spreading his legs and arms, he just hoped nobody decided to use it with him inside.

Looking upwards he squinted at the little cracks of light coming from the deposition ports. He had to be quick before the systems got alerted about an obstruction.. Ha, ha, oh Primus, he wanted to cry at the irony.

He carefully pried at the locking mechanism of the port connecting the chute to the wall of the inner corridor of the building. Wiggling the thin edge of the spade against the seam between deposition port and its lid. With a little twist and a snap the locking mechanisms gave in and (if there had been no upgrades) they would not ping in as breached.

The opening was a bit narrow for his slightly widened shoulders so he didn't get through without a wiggle and a couple of scrapes. He also made a bit more noise than he wanted but it was all worth it when he finally extricated himself onto the floor of the corridor. He vented once to regain his bearings and glanced around, making sure he was alone. If he recalled correctly, the archives should be located one floor above if he took the corridor...

-'What are you doing here?"

Scrap. Bad idea Bad idea BadideaBadideabadidea

Blurr whipped about to face a… he looked up. A tall-ish green mech with a purple insignia. Just his luck to emerge in the Decepticon part of the HQ.

-"I fell in the incinerator chute, got stuck and came out here! Sir."

A slight look of amusement briefly passed the mech's features but he did not seem to buy it. Blurr was faced with two options - to run for it or face the music. Neither were very appealing but he already had accounted for the facing the music part.

-"Present your ID."

-"Look, it was an accident and you literally just caught me getting in, could you just, escort me to the exit and I promise never to come back again?" Blurr rummaged through his backup collection of cover-up identities. Did he Really have none which were for a repairsmech of sorts? The 'con did not wait though.

-"What is your designation and rank?"

-"I'm a civilian, Sir!"

Blurr did not recall being under such scrutiny since his early days at the elite Guard Academy, just who was this mech? He did not recall ever seeing him, or, rather - her, considering that the mech was of a camien built.

The 'con tilted her helm. -"What is your designation?"

Blurr seriously considered lying but decided to not make things worse for himself, there was no point of lying about the little things.

-"My designation is Blurr, sir."

-"You will have to come with me, Blurr."

The blue speedster regarded the mech in a calculating manner - he knew this approach - act stiff until the fugitive freaks out. He could play the game, they were not supposed to fight now, he should not be in any kind of danger, apart from a strict reprimand, that is. Either way his look and build were too memorable to just make a run for it and hope not to be traced.

The mech indicated to Blurr to go first until they reached a door. His vents hitched, this was not the exit!

-"Y-you will interrogate me?"

-"No, I will not be the one questioning you. Wait here please."

Blurr was left alone in the bare room with nothing there to focus on but his increasingly more bizarre thoughts. He should not need to be scared, they were at peace, people would notice him missing, he would be ok... Nervously he thought why it was that he was reacting this way at all, he had training, he was better than this. Blurr's spark was about to jump out of his chassis as the door opened again and a tall, lanky frame entered.

A red optic against a pair of blue ones. Blurr wanted to melt into a wall behind him, this was The Worst outcome.

-"Agent Blurr? What brings you here?"

Excellent question, Blurr could ask himself the same - that plan had been stupid to begin with.

-"I…" Pinned by the single red optic Blurr faltered. -"I needed to check the data on the last battle on Earth."

-"The records are publicly available through an online application process."

Blurr stared at Shockwave slack-jawed. That was news, he hadn't expected such transparency and now it truly hit him just how reckless and unneccessary this entire idea of infiltrating the HQ was; he should have just asked...

-"Which brings me to question your motivation for breaking into military command center, in the middle of the work cycle no less."

-"I needed to access it soon, it is for a friend."

Blurr was not familiar with ways in which Shockwave emoted but he got the gist that the 'con was highly skeptical of his truthfulness. Blurr had nothing to add to this, even less to say to Shockwave himself, the room already felt far too small for comfort.

-"Could that friend of yours perhaps be the black and white special operations agent? Jazz, I believe?"

Blurr glanced at Shockwave, optics wide, he had a sinking feeling that Shockwave already knew. Still it could have been only a speculation, like Pit was Blurr confirming that.

-"I have many friends, one of them indeed is Jazz. I have no need to tell you if that is the friend I have in mind." Shockwave already knew more than he should, he could be spared the details.

The mech scoffed lightly, briefly examining his claws. -"Please, Blurr, it is not a secret that Jazz is currently recuperating in the medical ward. And it is in your interest to be as transparent as possible, you have trespassed after all."

-"I-I…" Blurr felt like support had been kicked from under his chassis. Enter new plan - murder Shockwave, hide the body, leave the planet.

-"What are you looking for?" Shockwave leant in slighlty.

Blurr blinked, being caught in the light of that red optic like a petrorabbit. He desperately grasped for the usual rage and petulance which fueled him while talking to Shockwave and could not find any. -"I'm looking for the records on the last battle, the moments before and after the restoration of the AllSpark."

-"I believe first-hand experiences would be appreciated?"

That was an abrupt change of direction. It took Blurr a moment to gather his bearings and when realization hit his spark squeezed into a tiny ball in his chest.

-"J-just what are you...?"

It was surprising to see how elegantly and fluidly a piece of large machinery could move. Shockwave had extended what passed for his wrist towards Blurr, data port open,

-"I'm merely expediting your request. That is if That was what you had been after all along."

Shockwave was suggesting to hardline, this fact alone made Blurr's processor buzz and stall. He desperately needed something, anything to get away, but the lure of information was far too tempting. There had to be a middle ground, this was too much and too personal and the 'con definitely had ulterior motives.

-"I can't possibly… I can't, I need the information but I can't accept it like this."

-"You needn't let me into your processor, it is just a data download."

Just a download, JUST?! Blurr screamed inside his helm. Knowing Shockwave, Blurr would not even notice him rummaging through his files until he woke up in some back-alley with half of his memories erased and a missing T-cog. No, the longer he thought of it, the worse the entire proposal sounded.

-"I-I needToLeave, I…" Panic struck. Blurr darted towards the door of the room, pawing for the switch, it was locked. Vents accelerating, he braced himself against the wall and switched into a fight or flight mode. Shockwave was saying something but that fell on deaf audio receptors. Blurr gripped the only piece of weaponry he had left and held it menacingly between the two of them.

Shockwave resigned to just standing there and watching the blue racer work himself into a tizzy. He commed Ratchet whilst counting down the kliks until the racer would pass out either from overheating or short-circuiting. All things considered, Blurr had lasted longer than during their previous meeting which could be regarded as good progress. 5,7 kliks later, Blurr's frame suddenly buckled and went into a forced shutdown.

Shockwave allowed himself a little vent, this was going to be a Pit to explain to the Autobot medic. Curiously he examined the little blade Blurr had threatened him with. It had clattered to the floor the moment the Autobot had passed out. In his claws it looked more like a toy or a piece of jewelry than a weapon, yet in Blurr's case it was oddly fitting. If Blurr was searched it would land him in more trouble than he was already in, the little blade disappeared in Shockwave's subspace before the Autobot medic burst in.

Next thing Blurr knew was that he was on a berth and a concerned-looking Deadl..., no, Drift, was looking over him.

-"How are you? No, lay down, you were in shock just moments ago." The mech gently pushed Blurr back into a prone position and right on queue Ratchet came into the room, probably summoned by Drift's comm.

-"Let me guess, you did not use the medical stasis patch I gave you. I know five days are not out yet but you can't afford another meltdown like this. I am putting you under until your defrag cycle completes. You have half an hour to settle your businesses and then you will be waking up when you will be ready."

Blurr wanted to protest, naturally. Breakdown was in for a job, the bar did not run itself, there were deliveries to be signed off and data to be researched.

-"I can't not, now."

-"Sorry, kid, the timer is ticking, in half an hour you will be out cold so better use your remaining time wisely."

Blurr felt vindicated, Ratchet had done this without his consent! In a flurry, Blurr started pinging everyone, Jazz (for an off-chance he had override codes for the medical stasis), Breakdown - for shift in his schedule and Blaster - to complain about frivolity of medical staff these days.

Blurr later recalled that medical stasis indeed felt like recharging in a hole. On a positive note, he was not plagued by odd memory fluxes either. Which brought him to wonder why he had resisted it to begin with.

* * *

When you don't sleep for too long, bad decisions are easier to make. Also Blurr is out of practice when it comes to infiltration.


	11. Project Omega

Words are violence, break the silence,

Depeche Mode, go home, you're drunk.

* * *

Blurr was groggy when woke, he accessed his chronometer and groaned, a message backlog of not one, but two full cycles had accumulated in his inbox - he still could not believe it had taken him that long to fully defrag. There were inquiries from friends, acquaintances and a 'Recharge tight, don't let the Scraplets bite" note from Moonracer. Blurr blew a raspberry when he read a silly wordplay from Breakdown about Blurr having a breakdown.

Most notably though there was a message from Jazz, asking to come visit as soon as Blurr was out of his defrag.

-"Jazz?" The mech looked more jovial and bouncy than Blurr had seen him in a while. It might have been just Blurr´s company or it might have been related to the drip of transparent fluid attached to his energon line.

-"Hey there sleeping beauty!"

-"You are not even the first one to call me that today."

-"Mech, ya needed it after that stunt ya pulled."

Blurr looked to the side, rubbing his shoulder, he could feel his faceplates heating up. -"That was probably the dumbest thing I´ve done in a long while."

\- "That's why ya got caught but not why ya went. Spill the bolts."

The blue racer fidgeted a bit thinking what to say. - "I wanted to brush up on what actually happened on Earth. I mean I have never personally seen the records."

Jazz´s visor brightened slightly and then dimmed, mouth pulling slightly to the side, accompanied by an inquiring tilt of his helm. -"Yeah, but that's history so why the rush?"

There was just no evading the mech now was there? How could Blurr tell Jazz when his motivation was literally sitting in front of him? Instead Blurr broke optic contact and looked at the ceiling, gesturing in exasperation.

-"I know, Shockwave told me they were even public and had I wanted to wait…"

Jazz´s entire plating fluffed out like that of a cybercat. He touched his one palm to the side of his visor while gesturing wildly with the other. -"Wait, wait, since when is Shockwave in the picture?"

Blurr vented slightly, happy that they abandoned their previous train of conversation. Jazz was trained for this and Blurr really did not want to lie to the mech, he cleared his throat.

-"He sort of questioned me after I had been detained."

-"What did he do? I want details, Blurr." Jazz's voice carried a strict edge to it.

-"He. " Blurr felt embarrassed for no evident reason. -"He offered expediting my request for information. And you already know what happens to me when he and I interact too long."

Jazz seemed to be considering this report, probably checking it against his own sources. It was refreshing to see Jazz so active, it looked like he was his old self again. Blurr wouldn't have minded to get into more trouble just to bring back this determination.

-"Don't worry, I'm not hurt and Ratchet scanned me for any insidious or malignant coding."

Jazz canted his helm to the side, small frown on his faceplates. - "I'm surprised he approached you even after all the warnings Ratchet and I gave him."

Blurr´s optics widened and he shot a hand before his mouth. -"You mean you threatened him?"

-"No, we just strongly discouraged him, as for the rest, he is a smart mech." There it was again - the spark of mischief in that visor.

Blurr just imagined Jazz being threatening and non-compromising with the large ´con. -"I wish I had been a scraplet on the wall to hear how that went down."

-"I might still have an internal recording of it somewhere."

-"Oh no you didn't!" Blurr cast him a devious smile - It was outrageous and clever and so Jazz that Blurr could not help himself and but hug the mech and smile radiantly. -"Thank you for doing this. I don't know what I would do without you." The racer murmured into Jazz´s plating.

-"You could start by telling me why you want the intel on the Earth battle so badly."

Blurr´s plating clamped and he swallowed hard. Jazz was a professional, he should never forget that.

-"I…" Blurr pulled back to look Jazz in the visor. -"I can´t tell you just yet because I do not have the evidence but IPromiseIwillOnceIfindOut."

-"Easy, mech. I was there, you can just ask. No need to put yaself in danger."

-"Well.."

Blurr paused putting the palms of his hands together, contemplating if this was a good idea. When he glanced at Jazz, his visor was all intensity and attention. Blurr made a short vent through his mouth and started.

-"I have this theory… It is about, I thought that perhaps…." A pause to gather his thoughts. -"A spark could maybe retain some of the personality traits of the mech it belonged to even when it joined the AllSpark? Given that Prowl did not exactly offline?"

Jazz´s visor dimmed and his shoulder struts hunched, as if all strength had left his body.

Blurr bit his lip.

-"I, I´m sorry, this is why I did not want to tell you, I just upset you now and you do not need any more of that."

Jazz shook his helm -"No, no, I getcha. But that does not explain why I could not hear him anymore."

Blurr lowered his helm, then looked at Jazz again. -"That I don´t know, this is not the kind of science I am familiar with, but I think someone Should know."

Jazz's visor brightened, mouth slightly agape. - "The mecha involved with Vector Sigma…"

Blurr's mouth set in grim determination - the same ones involved with the enforcer project, the same ones who wanted his speed matrix. He had a bargaining chip on his side, one that he had no willingness to give up. Then he glanced at Jazz again, perhaps sometimes what he wanted did not matter all that much when someone else was suffering.

As if reading Blurr's thoughts the mech answered - "Don't ya go doing something reckless again, Blurr. Prowl ain't alive no more." Jazz crumpled a little even as he said it, but he pushed on regardless. -"There's no need to get anyone else hurt over the matter."

Blurr could not counter that but neither could he leave the matter alone. He had a hunch he was on the right track and it had seldom lead him astray back at the spec-ops.

They concluded their conversation with some silly stories from the bar. Jazz was about to enter his scheduled stasis lock and it was about time Blurr returned to his work for the evening opening. He had a small hope that his 2-day blackout would not reflect on his business too badly.

Blurr was stuck on a slow-moving speedway so he took his time by scrolling through the remainder of his messages. There was recent note from Shockwave with For your research in the subject line and a heavy archived file package attached.

Blurr considered deleting the message and hesitated in the last moment. What was in it for Shockwave? The 'con was connviting and a known manipulator…and Blurr was aware of it. He would place any other information as more valid than his report. Which would leave him safe to play around with whatever data the message contained.

Now for the safety precautions, he was not foolish enough to open the data package in his HUD so he distantly uploaded it onto an unused datapad - if it contained malware he'd only end up with a fried piece of hardware and not a wiped processor.

He sped up the ramp to turn left and proceeded reading the remainder of the message.

PS: I am currently in possession of your trinket. You can find it in my office.

Blurr gasped stopped abruptly on the speedway of all things and almost caused a heavy constructicon bot to sweep him off the road completely. Had it not been for Blurrs' quick reflexes he would have found himself pressed into a completely new shape. He quickly transformed and leapt into the air, landing on the hood of the heavy vehicle. Clearly they were not happy.

-"The frag is wrong with you! Git off, ya nutjob!"

Blurr patted the metal beneath his feet apologetically.

-"Stop groping me! Perve!"

Blurr quickly removed his hands, holding them up in the air -"Ah! Sorry, sorry! I did not mean to…!" He did not get to finish apologising as the heavy transformer broke abruptly, sending the smaller bot careening off his hood and back onto the road.

Blurr transformed mid-air and used the momentum to add to his getaway speed just in case the construction mech wanted to pursue him. Lesson learnt - no more multitasking until he reached his bar.

Once safely behind the heavy door, Blurr set to root about his subspace in search of his spade, assuming that was what Shockwave had meant by 'trinket'. He came up empty-handed and then recalled exactly why. Fine, the 'con could keep it if he so wanted, Blurr was not going to set a single molecule of his being in that office.

The blinking datapad drew his attention next. Blurr was pleasantly surprised to see that the device had automatically unarchived the file Shockwave sent him, the data was so heavy it only just fit. The initial message was simple enough - I suggest you compare the contents to the publicly available equivalent. Blurr would have done it anyway.

Curious, he pulled up the public access form and filed an official request for the same data; almost instantly he got slammed into the bureaucratic reality by the long waiting time (a decacycle!). Had Blurr been the tantrum-throwing kind of mech he would have been stomping his foot and screaming his vents out.

Affronted, he turned to the datapad with the file from Shockwave, giving its' contents a cursory glance. Upon inspection was just information - good information, well-catalogued if a bit dry to Blurr's liking; very similar to Longarm's work. He frowned and set the pad down, his thoughts were going to lead him to dark places if he continued now; he would look over that later, when he was prepared.

* * *

Blurr the Perve strikes for the first time, unaware of his abilities, he wanders the streets touching unsuspecting construction mecha.


	12. Lovers - past and present

Sorry for the long gap in updating but I needed a little breather. So I went caving and hiking and I climbed an ancient volcanic fissure swarm also known as Eldborg, google it, it is magnificent.  
Anyhow please ignore my self-satisfied rambling and enjoy the next chapter.

This chapter starts with a slightly triggery content - dub-con and immobilization.

* * *

The touch of broad fingers traveled down his hips, splaying over his thighs. Blurr's plating glittered in semi-darkness, illuminated by tiny electric arches - visual manifestation of pleasure that skittered over his receptors.

The digits of his phantom lover would travel towards the inner seams, enveloping the thicker metal, dipping into gaps, tweaking his whiring.

His circuits were starved for this kind of attention, venting lightly, feeling the hauntingly cool air on his backplates, he arched into the touch. Blurr was so immersed in the sensation that it took him a moment to notice the tell-tale purplish glow associated with living energon.

Confused and slightly agitated he glanced down. Instead of Longarm's blunt fingers, huge, sharp claws were now deeply lodged in his circuitry, streaks of energon trailing from under them. Judging by the amount of energon it should have hurt, Blurr's systems should have been pinging him about the breach of chassis but he felt only pleasure. With sinking feeling he concluded - the energon must not have been his...

For the first time he looked around properly and saw ghoulish faces in the shadows. Disfigured faceplates of mecha, optics dark, mangled chassis illuminated by the faint glow of energon oozing from their copious wounds. The more he focused, the more he saw - victims, strung up the walls by their circuitry.

Blurr wanted to scream, needed to get away but his body refused to respond to his distress. Unspilled coolant collected at the edges of Blurr's optics as he watched those nightmarish claws work their way to his codpiece and tamper with the seams there. He did not want this. Soon as his panel slid open, the sharp appendages dove in, making his chassis arch in response - there had been no time to adjust.

Locked inside his own body, unable to stop the touch forced on him, Blurr felt streams of coolant spill down his cheeks. That was the only thing he could do; his valve and thighs felt shamefully wet, the liquid heat in his circuits made him sick with the sticky feeling of betrayal. A heavy hollow gaped in his chest where the spark should have been and his body was on the brink of overload.

Blurr tried begging (for what?) but soon realised he could not even speak or whimper, or utter any sound at all. Blurr thought his spark would burst out of his casing when he finally felt whatever restrained his voice give.

A jewel-toned scream echoed through the old oilhouse turned bar and resonated through the neighboring street.

Blurr shivered on his sleeping pad, vents coming ragged and uneven, wetness on his faceplates making dreams cling and mingle with wakefulness. Blurr glanced around to make sure there was no energon, no bodies and no claws.

The loft remained silent save for his harsh vents, streaks of street illumination painted bright lines across the floor and his frame.

The feeling of wetness around his crotch gave him a pause, he reached down only to come away with a palm smeared in lubricants. Blurr grimaced, watching the strings of viscous substance stretch and snap between his fingers. Disgusted with himself, he hauled his feverish frame to the washracks. Another memory purge but now with an exotic twist of poorly-compiled data.

The dregs not cleared up by the defrag had coalesced to fake memories and played out in his recharge. Faulty memory or not, Blurr wouldn't have been able to look Jazz straight in the faceplates right now without a burning sense of guilt.

His tanks heaved but failed to come up with anything but a spittle of oral lubricants. Blurr felt too fragile to move so he stayed under the cool spray of solvent. Defrag Should have helped him with this but all it seemed to have done was make things worse.

Unable to share this with anyone else, Blurr succumbed to a bout of self-pity. He was so tired of this, tired of running, tired of being scared, tired of being strong when he didn't feel like he was. Even in his recharge he was plagued by the single-opticked spectre.

But as usual, there was no time introspection, the bar was due to open in a couple of hours and he had to be fully functional by then. Warily he rummaged through his med-supply cabinet for the long-forgotten patches Rung had prescribed him. After clicking one into his medical port he felt the immediate relief associated with mood suppressants.

With a vent of relief he slid down the wall adjacent to washracks and stared at the ceiling. A pleasant cloud of bliss and not-caring surrounded his circuits and tension in his cables evaporated. Rung had once told him that he would have to acknowledge what he felt if he ever wished to overcome his state. Sadly now was not the time, he could not face his customers in a fragile state of mind.

* * *

Blaster had the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. The poignant notes pouring from the speakers revved up the attendants in a way that was both fun and sensual. Even Blurr, being a tad tone-deaf, rapped his toe-piece to the beat. Not to mention the clink of energon bottles and cubes on every surface - unsettled by the subwoofers installed in Blaster's own frame.

If there were enforcers in the area, Blurr was pretty certain they would have forced them to tone it down but...well. There was not much in a sense of neighbors in his direct vicinity and the dock owners did not seem to mind, not to mention that there literally were no enforcers yet.

What worried Blurr that night was Breakdown's performance. He was somewhat edgy, meekly casting glances around him, clenching and unclenching his palms; luckily his mere presence discouraged mecha from starting anything. Blurr reprimanded himself, remembering the meltdow he had had just hous before. It was his first night on the job and Blurr could get behind him being anxious. The bruiser caught his glance and approached the bartender thrrough the crowd.

-"Hey. Do you mind if I bring drinks to customers, too? I feel useless otherwise."

Oh so that was why he was so antsy, Blurr concluded. It was a generous offer but for time being he could not afford a waiter and he would rather have Breakdown properly rewarded for service. He explained it to Breakdown as politely as possible.

-"It is all right. I will do it because I want it, not because you tell me to."

Blurr found himself unable to argue with that and, as an added bonus, the bruiser actually relaxed after this. His taller stature and an uncompromising frame did miracles when it came to parting the crowd and delivering orders. Throughout the evening Breakdown remained civil and apologetic to whoever he accidentally bumped into.

Later that night, when Breakdown had dumped the last of the more stubborn folk out of the bar, Blurr smirked at the bruiser knowingly.

-"I am not sure if you noticed but there was a mech ogling you tonight. In fact, he insisted on buying you a drink but did not want to disturb your shift." Blurr pushed a carmine-red energex cocktail in direction of the bruiser.

The patron in question had a finish so sleek it almost looked liquid. Blurr had actually felt a pang of self-consciousness about his own plating - something he had not experienced since his early days in the office.

Being on lengthy solo missions meant that he dropped the need to care for his finish that much but having returned to a more public setting had caught up to him at that very point. He was clean but he was nowhere near how he used to be in intel office or even academy which was to say a lot. In one word - he looked scruffy and the shiny stranger ogling his personnel did not make him feel any better for it.

With a slight note of teasing Blurr added.

-"Before you ask, yes, his chassis match the color of this drink."

Breakdown stammered, opticks lighting with hope but then, surprisingly, his mouth drew into a tight line and he straightened up, looking at the drink as if it was about to attack him.

-"Is something the matter? Nobody tampered with it if that is what worries you." Blurr was quick to assure. He tried keeping a close optic on any possible date drugging going on in his venue because it was simply wrong, not to mention - bad for business.

-"Boss, you know what they say about fearing rejection? Well, acceptance is even more scary."

Blurr blinked. Oh, OH!

-"Breakdown, do you want that? I mean not the drink but the attention. Because if it makes you feel uncomfortable you absolutely shouldn't…"

Breakdown shook his helm. -"I was crazy about him back in the army days, even took up medical training to somehow end up closer to him…."

Blurr had to give the bruiser points for ingenuity - far-fetched, yes; but he could not blame him for the lack of trying. If what Blurr got from the red speedster was anything close to how he really was like… Breakdown needn't have worried about having a one-night stand, anything more might be problematic though.

-"So what held you apart before?"

-"Distance, we served in different areas and also, on several occasions I sort of bailed on him."

Behind the counter Blurr leant back slightly. Had anyone bailed on Blurr he would not have bothered even acknowledging the mech again but this red speedster was determined.

-"Alright and what worries you now? Assuming that you are still interested."

-"I am...but I do not even know how we would function together. We are so different, I'm not even sure we are compatible and then what?"

Blurr blinked, Breakdown was raising more obstacles for himself than any mech he had ever known, apart from himself, maybe. It was all in his head, at least mostly. Then there was social stigma associated to dating not only outside your build class but also outside your size class. Though that had started fading since there fewer of each frame-class left and dating strictly within those boundaries proved impossible. Likewise medicine had advanced towards making such couplings more likely to happen should the size difference be too drastic.

Blurr in-vented and adopted the best mixture of approaches he had experienced from Rung and Jazz. He leant in, placing palms or his hands on the top of the bar and staring Breakdown square in the faceplates.

-"I'll let you in on a secret." He urged Breakdown to lean in to be on his level. In a conspiratorial voice he continued. -"You want him, he wants you, you will figure out the rest as you go. This is a part of what relationship is."

From this distance Blurr could feel heat radiating from Breakdown's faceplates but there was a big, silly grin on them this time.

\- "Boss..." It sounded affectionate and Blurr cold not help but grin back.

-"I asked him for his contact frequency just in case."

-"Boss?!" It was Breakdown's turn to pull away from the countertop as much as he could, optics almost round with horror.

-"Just kidding." Blurr chuckled, -"He left it himself." A datapad was pushed towards Breakdown with respective coordinates free handed on the tactile surface.

Breakdown was equal parts terrified and enchanted with his boss and he was about to say it too but they got a knock on the door.

-"I am not expecting anyone." Blurr stated while staring at equally bemused Breakdown; surprised by the fact that anyone would bother knocking on a bar door instead of ringing a doorbell.

They both turned to look in the direction of the door when they heard the knocks again.

Suspiciously and with a great deal of reluctance both mechs inched towards the door. Blurr took it upon himself to open the door just slightly, knocking was an odd behaviour.

Moments later a blinding flash of light sent Blurr staggering back against Breakdowns' chassis.

-"Experimental enforcer unit PR02Z here to collect you for questioning."

Blurr reset his optics, trying to get rid of any lingering static in his vision and took a conscious step back. Breakdown, being his protective self eased an entire arm's width between his employer and the drone. So enforcers were back in business, apparently.

-"Stay away." Breakdown stated in a low tone that made Blurr glance at him in surprise. The bruiser had never displayed such level of antagony towards anyone else. Not around Blurr anyway.

-"You are given one more chance to come calmly. Raise your hands to show compliance, subduing sequence starting in 5 clicks...4...3….2….

Not believing their optics, Blurr and Breakdown stared dumbly at the drone as it continued with the countdown, mildly curious and apprehensive about what it meant by subduing sequence. They did lift their hands only to feel two sets of pins lodge in their plating and deliver a heavy load of electrcity.

Blurr's circuits shorted first and he clanged to the floor. Breakdown followed shortly after.

* * *

And this, dear readers, is why we can't have nice things


	13. Accidental Encounter

This is a flashback chapter fleshing out how Longarm and Blurr came to be using headcannon fodder of yours truly.

* * *

Blurr and Longarm hadn't met in the office, no, it had been long before the notorious Decepticon double agent had taken post as the head of Autobot intelligence office.

It happened during one of the semi-official office gatherings devoted to networking and getting to know their colleagues from other departments. Longarm was only starting to climb the career steps but Blurr was already an experienced field agent.

Among other things the event stood out because Blurr had not even meant to attend in the first place. He had just finished with the debriefing from his most recent lengthy covert mission. Having returned to Cybertron only a few cycles ago, all he wanted to do was to drag his aching chassis home and die, or rather, sleep off all the nastiness that he had encountered or had been forced to do while under cover.

However life brought in its corrections in form of malfunctioning home appliances.

Once over the threshold of his suite a smell of degraded energon wafted past Blurrs' olfactory sensors. Apparently at some point his energon storage cabinet had malfunctioned, causing his entire energon stock to go well past it's half-life leaving him an unhappy and underfueled mech. Had he known before he would have gotten some on his way home but now it was too late and the vending areas were closed.

A long-standing wisdom of any low-budget Elite Guard academy alumni was that office gatherings equaled free energon. Decision made for the remainder of the evening, he went for a wash and a slight buff. Who knew, he could use it as an opportunity to maximise his socialising during his brief stay on Cybertron by meeting as many mecha at once as possible.

Any networking party worked best when mecha you networked with had an active memory of your existence. With Blurr that was simply not the case - most of his colleagues barely remembered his name. And those who did recognise him were estranged due to the nature of his missions. So Blurr was mostly treated as a new face despite his long-standing involvement in the Elite Guard.

Longarm Had been new to that particular group of mecha so they both had ended up at the 'reject' table, nursing their respective cubes of energon. Judging by the color neither of them had partaken in hi-grade. Blurr-because of his empty tanks, Longarm... who knew.

Silence lingered for a while, neither mech being able to come up with what to say to a stranger and under pressure of a requirement to socialise. And then they both spoke at once.

-"Agent Blurr?"

-"Would you happen to be new, here?"

The tubby mech had made a slightly pained expression and Blurr looked to the side, faceplates heating slightly, silence lingered, way to break the ice, huh? Then his extravagant companion (because who apart from Senator Botanica sticks jewelry just in the middle of their foreheads?) had cleared his intake softly, making Blurr glance at him.

-"That did not come out right, agent Blurr, I presume? Welcome back."

The mech had known his designation when some of his long-standing co-workers still struggled with remembering it - Blurb, Bluuu, Agent Speaksalot…

-"Thank you, agent, though I am not entirely sure if you are an agent since I have not seen You Before. Which wouldLeadMeToBelieve that you are the new additionToTheRanks Since this event is InvitationOnly..."

Blurr stopped himself abruptly, realising that the poor mech probably had not caught more than 'Thank you' out of his entire triade.

The mech smiled warmly. -"You are correct, Agent Blurr, I was just transferred recently from the Elite Guard academy."

Blurr blinked, the mech had not asked him to repeat himself.

-"Which brings me to wonder, if I may, shouldn't you be resting now? You just came in a few cycles ago."

Blurr pulled his face into a wry smile and looked at his energon, two empty cubes already stacked next to him. To a casual onlooker he must have looked greedy, mooching off the free energon offered from the command center funds.

-"I wanted to see the new additions to the department." A blatant lie, but not a hurtful one. What was he supposed to say anyway? 'I am hungry and my home has no fuel?' Blurr elected to change the topic. -"I alsoNeverGotYourDesignation albeit YouAlreadyKnowMine."

-"Ah, you may call me Longarm. As for knowing your designation - I took it upon myself to learn the names of all agents involved in this department to avoid the rookie mistake of letting a spy in because of my own ignorance. To be honest I was wondering when I might meet you."

There was no denying in heating of Blurr's faceplates but now instead of his cheeks, the warmth spread all over his neck and protoform under his chest plating. He briefly wondered if he had ingested hi-grade by accident. The mech was just charming and the blue racer had to perish a thought of how it might have felt to squeeze this Longarm in a hug.

None the wiser, Longarm fiddled with his cube, finally resolving to put it down rather clumsily. He apologised, stating that he had spotted his superior in the crowd and wanted to greet him.

Blurr rested his elbows on the table, nestling his chin in his palms. He watched Longarm disappear in the crowd, who knew if he'd see the mech again.

Next time they met Blurr had captured several Decepticon convicts and Longarm had climbed several steps in hierarchy. Regardless, their interaction remained easy and polite. Until one day Blurr came to submit his report and saw 'Longarm Prime' written on the door of their chief.

-"You've missed a promotion or two, agent." Cliffjumper had deciphered his dumb-stuck expression. -"He's inside, you don't want to be late."

Steadying himself, Blurr entered.

Longarm had not changed even one bit but now he was his superior. The same polite, squishy-looking bot was now on the receiving end of Blurr's reports.

-"It has been a long time, Agent Blurr, how have you been?"

Blurr grasped for what to say, he had not expected his superior to take on such a casual tone with him. Then again, it was Longarm, they had been on friendly terms before; Blurr felt terribly conflicted.

-"The mission went according to the plan, sir, the details are in the report. Also allow me to congratulate you on your promotion, Sir!"

Longarm blinked, resetting his vocaliser and Blurr thought that maybe, just maybe he had overdone it with the official tone.

-"I see, thank you, agent. You are dismissed for time being.."

Blurr got a handle of his faceplates and forced them to be placid rather than show the disappointment he felt at such a curt response. He was ready to take his leave but Longarm stopped him by speaking up once more.

-"Oh, one last thing. The office was performing the check on the agents. Understandably, you were away on a mission and could not do it in the required time. Could you please confirm your place of residence with agent Cliffjumper before you leave today?"

Later that day Blurr figured that he should have suspected it. There was a parcel of fresh energon rations set at his doorstep. Blurr almost cried - he had longed for the taste of non-stale energon for Cycles and, judging by the note and after checking back with his superior for safety purposes, apparently Longarm had been aware of the fact.

That simple act of caring had tilted the scales and Blurr was positive now that he rather fancied the bot.

In retrospect Blurr figured he should have suspected that something was amiss. Longarm has been a meek bot but there was vast processing power behind that exterior. That sort of processor could not have been concealed for this long.

Blurr back then did not possess such wisdom and if there was a turn - on for him, it was competence. Longarm's good practice and work ethics just made Blurr want to work harder and produce better results for his superior. It was a self-perpetuating cycle of excellence and Blurr was hopelessly infatuated.

It came as no surprise that at one point Longarm had asked Blurr's input on something. They ended up working long into the night and the project had ended up not only pleasant but also successful.

This set precedent to their more frequent cooperation - Blurr's off-world schedule permitting. Longarm still insisted that Blurr spent most of his time on Cybertron recuperating and resting.

Even though their meetings sparse Blurr revelled in them regardless. It was pleasant to have someone back home who would be glad to see him return.

* * *

Thank you for all your reads! I promise more plot will come along the next chapter.


	14. Incarcerated

Show goes on as we explore the nit and grit.  
I really, Really hope Blurr does not come across as a Mary Sue.

* * *

In his career as undercover agent, Blurr had gotten used to waking up to different settings. Injured, starving, half-transformed to alt-mode, restrained, and in one embarrassing instance - with an interface partner still inside him, were only the top of his list. This time marked another notch in his plating.

Blurr frowned, being roused to wakefulness by the harsh overhead lighting that was boring into his sensitized light receptors. He lifted his helm from where he lay and looked around with bleary optics. The visual feed still swam and blurred in patterns that made him slightly dizzy.

-"Put your helm between your knees, kid." Somemech spoke, "Reduces the hemlache."

Blurr recognized that his unconscious chassis had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor. The moment he started to feel the haze of processor-ache creep in he quickly did as recommended. If he were to be honest with himself, there had been occasions where he had been treated better by the enemy. At least then he knew what it had been for.

Absentmindedly he traced his fingers over the two tender spots on his armor and reset his optics a couple of times before they formed clear feedback. He gasped, never having expected to end up in a situation like this. He was in a detention cell.

-"What happened?" He asked to nobody in particular but regardless, he got an answer.

The previously disembodied voice belonged to a purple and teal jet-former who shared the cell with him.

-"The pit do I know but ya look like you've been tased. 'Bots starting to turn on their own?"

Disgruntled, Blurr did not know what to answer to that. He took a better look at the two tiny punctures on his plating surrounded by scorch marks. Great, as if his plating needed more dings.

He glanced around with more focused optics now. The holding cells had not undergone much evolution since he had last visited them. The most striking difference was that he had been on the other side of the glowing bars.

If nightmares came true this was as close Blurr hoped he would get. He had never been detained by enforcers of his own government before. Instinctively he reached for his subspace to retrieve the tools necessary to rectify the situation but realised that he had stasis cuffs on and that command was unaccessible for him. After a moment's thought he remembered that his precious spade was not in his possession anymore and abandoned the thought.

Upon further inspection Blurr spotted the shape of Breakdown slumped on the floor of the adjacent cell, still out cold. A couple of other mecha laid on the floor of the cell adjacent to his, equally unconscious.

The mech who had spoken to him was a Decepticon. In fact, most of the mecha in detention belonged or at least wore the symbol of that faction.

-"Did you get tased too?" He asked the jet. -"What for?"

-"Ugh, drones are just…" She gestured. -"I had to switch to my vehicle mode on a motorway. And I got detained for flying… I mean my vehicle mode is a jet."

-"I did not know they had flying enforcer drones too."

-"They don't." She huffed. -"I take it you are familiar with the Autobot menace called Jettwins?"

Blurr was surprised to hear that the rambunctious duo was now employed as part of enforcer unit but then again, last he'd checked they had been short on staff. Probably the only drawback to this was the fact that the Jettwins were young and it showed.

-"They are peculiar, yes."

-"They are sparklings." The jet shot back.

That, too.

A movement on far end of the detention complex caught their attention. A tall, green camien frame entered the corridor that ran adjacent to the cells. Blurr backed away from the bars and took his chance to cover in the shade of the larger flight frames' wings, hoping to attract as little attention as possible.

-"Now this is a pair of chassis I would not mind seeing any day."

The jet smiled down on him. Blurr's optics twitched - he prayed their cell would get overlooked for as long as possible despite the burning need to return to his bar and check it for any damages.

Picking up on Blurr's hesitation the jet continued -"Oh, you don't know Beta? She's nice."

The jet pronounced the last glyph with the same appreciation one might give to a bottle aromatic vintage energon - desirable and hard to get, and something Blurr currently wanted no part of. To his relief the camien passed their cell without taking much notice of the occupants.

Blurr puffed a vent of relief when the bot left the ward altogether with a detainee in tow; his companion, on the other hand, slumped, even her wings drooped on her back, nearly bopping Blurr over his sensor antenna.

-"Who is she anyway?"

Despite her disappointment the jet regained her bearings rather quickly -"She takes care of Autobot-Decepticon relations, some sort of culture difference expert."

Blurr made a noncommittal sound, surely that could not have been her only function. It made no sense for a civic official to wander around a military command center.

-"It is her job to settle disputes when mecha of opposing factions are detained for conflict."  
The jet continued. -"If it was not for her, more Decepticons than necessary would have ended up in prison on false accusations."

If Beta was as good as this jet said then at least Breakdown might have a chance, Blurr cast another glance at Brleakdown's prone figure. As for him, Blurr doubted that the green 'con who had caught him snooping about the Command center only weeks before would be just as willing to let go of his case.

-"Does she take only Decepticon cases?"

The jet shrugged.

-"You're the first Autobot I share a cell with and she's notoriously tough to catch outside the HQ, so I can't help you there."

Something about her wording caught Blurr's attention. Did she mean that Decepticons were detained more often than Autobots? Or was it that usually Aurobots and Decepticons were put in separate cells? Though if his assessment of the detention facility that night was correct, chances were that the former assumption was more likely.

-"What's your name by the way?"

-"Don't expect me to become all warm and cozy with you, kid, you're still a 'bot."

She sounded familiar, looked familiar and had a familiar biting snark to her way of speech. It did not take long for Blurr to connect the dots.

-"You are one of Starscream's clones?"

-"You say it like it is a bad thing."

The jet scoffed, sat down on the only bunk in the cell, crossed her legs and hugged herself, looking to the side now. Apparently being associated to Starscream was one of her sore spots. If Blurr wanted to glean more information from her he could not antagonize her.

-"Actually I know next to nothing about what being a clone is like and I share very little if no battle experience with you. I did encounter your fellow clones though, in fact, I sort of got stuck to them." Blurr, made a little puff of air through his olfactory sensor.

The jet turned to look at him.

-"Long story. They were a mixed bunch. Tried shooting me, too. But I was faster."

This time the jet smirked, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

-"Slipstream - the finest of what Starscream's legacy can offer to this world."

-"Blurr, I tend to talk fast." The Autobot extended his hand in an attempt to offer a handshake. Slipstream examined the offered appendage with unabated curiosity util Blurr became too self-conscious and let the hand drop to his side. Apparently aerials did not shake hands.

She did smile. -"You're cute."

Blurr felt his faceplates heat up almost indecently. What was he blushing for now? It is not like he hadn't been flattered before and he still had some remains of mood suppressants bumping about his systems. In fact, maybe that was for the better. He did not want to imagine what his reaction would have been if he had been subject to his fluctuating moods.

Sensing his distress, Slipstream rectified. -"But not my frametype, sorry to lead you on, kid. Soo, what gets a cute 'bot tased late in the evening?"

-"Apparently, opening a door." Blurr huffed and perched on the bench next to Slipstream, crossing arms over his chest in indignation.

Slipstream agreed that opening doors was dangerous business and their banter moved on to less personal venues. They discussed the horrors of sandblasted sensors. Slipstream gave him some pointers to a good detailing shop that had jet-grade polishes (a highly-coveted item among racers known for its durability and stress-resistance). Their conversation slowly wound down as time of the night was such that it was difficult to decide if it was too early or too late and they figured a recharge would not hurt. Slipstream had offered sharing the narrow bunk with him and Blurr was small enough to still have some wiggle room next to the larger jet.

Unused to recharging next to someone Blurr stayed awake for a while after Slipstream had powered down. It was strange, all things considered, if most Decepticons were like Breakdown or Slipstream... why did they have to fight?

He vented, that was a too complex topic to unravel at this hour. The jet's large wing mostly blocked out the harsh overheads and Blurr took this opportunity to power down himself, Primus knew he would need the energy later.

Unnoticed by either of them, a pair of embers flickered through the slats of the ventilation system. Ravage turned to take his leave. Megatron would be interested in this information and Shockwave was in no position to report at the moment.

* * *

Sandblasted sensors came into play after examining the security hazards of plane travel through volcanic ash. It made me think of Blurr traveing through universe on space debris - plenty of particles there for some serious sandblasting. No wonder he could not escape Longarm/Shockwave, technically he could barely see.

Credits here go to Eyafjallajokull eruption in 2010. So not only do you lose your engines and your sensors, you literally fly in the blind because the windows get sandblasted and you see nothing through them. It makes so much sense and it never occurred to me before.


	15. From Behind

Guys, Guys! Check this! Today was like my last exam, like ever (for this degree). It is Glorious, my arm feels like it is gonna fall off from all the writing - 2 exams in 3 days! This calls for a celebration!

H. Mulligan, J. Laurens and Lafayette saunter into the bar:

-"What time is it?"

-"Show time!"

Too much Alexander Hamilton? What do you Mean there is too much of Alexander Hamilton?!

* * *

-"I have two questions which I am entitled to before we even begin. Why were my employee and I detained? And why were we detained in such a forceful manner?"

The interrogation room was set up plainly, Beta had escorted Blurr there, Ironhide already waited inside. In passing Blurr noted that interrogations now involved cultural and legal entities. Curious.

Ironhide casually flipped through the file, apparently already tired from his shift. Beta shot the mech a withering look and pulled the empty chair meant for her slightly away from the bot before settling herself.

-"Firstly, I must apologise for the manner you and your employee were brought in." It was Beta who spoke, her voice remained calm and steady even if she looked like she had been up the entire night, making similar apologies to half of the mecha detained, if not more. -"I was informed by the Decepticon part of the science department that the enforcer drones are yet to undergo further socialisation before they are to work with the public again."

Clearly, she spoke for her faction alone and that made Blurr wonder if the Autobots should not be apologising on their behalf as well.

-"So they were testing these drones on live mecha?"

-"I will leave making amends and in-depth explanations to the science department representatives and the powers that be." She glanced in Ironhide's direction, who did not bother to hide a scowl himself.

-"I am glad that is cleared." Blurr was genuinely relieved. It was unpleasant, but a rectifiable situation nonetheless. More often than not science departments and the associated entities were pressured into something they would not have rather done. Omega Supreme being only one of such examples. Things should settle, unless Sentinel went and insulted someone...which was likely. Blurr cut that train of thought, he hoped Optimus, now having found his voice, would ensure balance, especially with Megatron favoring him. -"So am I and my associate clear to go?"

-"Afraid not." Ironhide had finally spoken up. -"Yours was an actual summons for a testimony."

The mech pushed a datapad with a picture towards Blurr. -" Are you familiar with this individual?"

Blurr looked at the large chassis, the 'bot, for he wore the Autobot insignia, looked like he had been offlined. His spark constricted, this was bound to be bad for business.

-"No, I am not."

-"His chassis had been found in the alleyway behind your establishment. At first attempts to contact you - you appeared unreachable and were apparently undergoing a medical treatment that included medical stasis lock."

Blurr thought back to Ratchet's defrag treatment but he did not recall receiving a message about needing to testify.

-"We have already interrogated the mech you were brought in with, Breakdown. What is your relation with him?"

Breakdown might have not known about interrogation practices but Blurr was not letting this slide. It was blaringly evident that they were treated like criminals rather than uninvolved bystanders.

-"To answer your question, Breakdown is employed in the bar I own."

They proceeded with questioning the length of their association, work environment, Breakdowns' behaviour with other mecha, et cetera.

The chassis had belonged to an unregistered 'bot, which Blurr considered very strange but did not comment upon. With Vector Sigma at work it was fairly easy to track the factory and serial number of an Autobot. As the questioning wound down Blurr relaxed slightly, a civilian mech would have been relieved, Blurr, at that one startling moment realised that he would probably never consider himseld a civilian.

-"My employee and I are not considered suspects then? If so, why were we put in holding cells?"

-"The drone reported resistance." Ironhide shot back.

-"The drone's resistance tolerance threshold has been set too low then and it's knowledge of mechanical rights is negligent. It did not even let us know why we had been summoned! You can't expect unquestioning obedience from population."

-"Excuse me," Beta intervened, effectively cutting off anything Ironhide was about to say.

-"Unfortunately at the time of your placement we did not have sufficient information to know whether or not you had actually put up resistance. I regret to say that we had a couple of violent encounters tonight." She rubbed her hand over a couple of scruffs on her arm plating before continuing.

-"Circumstances considered, we had to manually assess memory files of each drone for evidence before concluding whether or not the interaction had been violent. It saddens me to say that until then we had no proof whether or not you had to be confined."

Once done with questioning, Beta escorted Burr out of the interrogation room and to the front office of the enforcer station.

Blurr risked a conversation -"So, you are not going to give me a hard time for breaking into the Command Center?"

-"Command Center does not fall under my jurisdiction. Applying punitive measures to you there would have been out of line for me and probably illegal."

No wonder Slipstream liked her. At least if Beta was evil, it was probably lawful evil.

-"Have you considered becoming an enforcer yourself?" Blurr suddenly blurted out.

Beta blinked, her optics were blue - uncharacteristic for a Decepticon but their pallor seemed familiar somehow.

-"I believe I am more effective here. Oh… now that's odd."

She put fingers to the side of her helm and stopped. Blurr stood next to her and observed her reactions, her faceplate remained an unreadable mask tough there was a light downwards tilt to her optic ridges. A moment later she turned her attention to Blurr.

-"Vandalism and arson have been reported on your property. It happened a few hours ago..." Her tone indicated that even she was surprised to see this only now.

Blurr's jaw dropped. She had to be bluffing, there was no reason for anyone to attack the oil house.

-"I will direct the investigator units your way as soon as…" She gestured at the poorly staffed office in exasperation. -"...we have anyone to spare. Optimus is already on site."

Blurr felt as if someone had pulled the ground from beneath his feet, he barely noticed Beta handing him the documents he needed to sign before leaving the station. In haze of bewilderment Blurr stepped outside and was almost blinded by the high beams an alt was giving him. Slightly annoyed and squinting he approached the alt to find out what they wanted. To his surprise it was Breakdown who had been waiting for him all along.

-"You ok boss?"

-"I do not know if I can employ you any longer."

The bruiser assumed it was something he had done and started assessing what it could have been but Blurr stopped him.

-"Would you mind accompanying me to the oil house?"

To Breakdown the reason became quite evident when they approached the location of Blurr's bar. A faint smell of burnt energon and rubber wafted their way as last of the embers were carried by the wind. There was a circle of mecha around his previous workplace, he could make out Optimus, Blaster and Ratchet.

Blurr transformed and stood there, not sure what he should be doing. Just cycles ago this had been his place, fruit of his labor, a location liked enough by both factions to frequent and now it was a ruin. Briefly he wondered if something had malfunctioned like the energon dispenser leaking, catching fire and exploding… He attempted approaching the site but suddenly a broad blue back filled the entirety of his vision.

-"Breakdown, please, I have to see." Breakdown somehow made himself even wider and blocked each of Blurr's attempts to get around him.

-"Boss, I think you are tired, you should go home. There is not much you can do now."

Blurr did not understand why the bruiser suddenly acted like that. This Had been his home… Blurr had rented out his apartment because he did not want anything to do with that place after Longarm had revealed his true colors. Too many painful memories clung to that place for Blurr to function properly while remaining there. Annoyed, he used his unparallelled speed and sidestepped Breakdown before the mech had a chance to stop him.

Blurr then promptly stopped, feeling for the second time that day as if someone had kicked him in the gut.

On one of the scorched walls behind the smashed vials of energon stood the slur so profound it permeated Blurr to the very core.

"Decepticon whore" Glared at him written in white paint and large glyphs.

Blurr clamped his denta together, barely noticing that this chassis shook in barely repressed anger. This had been no accident, the perpetrators trashed and burned something he had put all his spark and processor to build, run and maintain. But their aim was no mere vandalism, they wanted Blurr miserable, they wanted to insult him personally and blame him for something he had no idea of back when it happened.

-"Boss, You shouldn't have to seen that." Breakdown murmured next to him and Blurr glanced up at his employee, bottom lip trembling in unguarded emotion, he pulled a painful smile that seemed to unsettle the bruiser.

-"Thank you Breakdown."

Optimus gave them a moment to recuperate and approached trying not to startle the two mechs. -"Do you know who it could have been?"

Blurr shook his helm. It could have been any of the bar attendants, it could have been anyone, really, though at first glance evidence hinted strongly in direction of the Autobots.

Blaster joined them, datapad in hand -"It is clearly a hate crime. I will contact the responsible authorities and start the case. You should not remain on your own, do you have anywhere to stay for tonight?"

Blurr shook his helm and Breakdown seemed to perk up at this.

-"He can stay at my place. I mean, you can stay at my place, boss."

* * *

Yass, I harvest the tears of thy misery and savor them like fine wine, Blurr!


	16. We welcome the fear

Breakdown inhabited a single-room hab-suite in a large, multi storey apartment block. The space was rather small even by Blurr's standards and he felt a pang of claustrophobia when he first entered the place but it was equipped with everything one mech might need to survive. On the way to the apartment they had passed communal washracks which was occupied by a rather vigorous and vocal couple. Breakdown suggested that Blurr used the washracks from the floor below. They were somewhat less...sullied.

Washing off the grime of the day would do him some good, Blurr decided, only to discover upon his arrival to the 'safe washracks' that he was fifth in the line. This was not new to him, the Elite Guard academy had taught him to be patient and quick about his washrack visitations yet somewhere along the way Blurr had gotten so used to having his own suite. He could not help but to feel that this was a step down for him.

Most of the bots in line acted like they knew each other and bantered back and forth without paying much heed to his arrival. Blurr got a faint feeling of déjà vu but tried chasing it away by making himself inconspicuous and listening in.

Washrack waiting line discussions ranged anywhere from fuel prices to employment, acid rain forecasts to personal relationships, all carefully neutral. No mention of political criticisms and no mention of the drone incident which just Had to have affected at least some bots from this building and by the gist of it they were a rather tightly-knit community. Blurr glanced down at his chest where the Autobot badge remained. He had not looked at the badges of the mecha before him, a habit he had enforced upon himself when he made a commitment of keeping the oil house open for all. Now he was curious if this was normal or it was how these mecha responded to presence of an Autobot or a newcomer…

-"Blurr?"

A gentle voice, white finials, too many scabbards for a medical bot.

-"I am couchsurfing, how's medbay?" Blurr had wanted to ask how Ratchet was but thought better of it, taking into account their current carefully neutral company.

-"Jazz misses you and I am sorry for what happened to your place." Drift looked as if he felt somehow personally responsible for what had happened.

Blurr was momentarily taken aback by how fast the gossip traveled but then considered his information channels. Blaster and Optimus must have told Ratchet, Ratchet must have blown a gasket and Drift just was around...

-"Can't help what has happened." Blurr fought with a fresh wave of bitterness. -"But I have wanted to redecorate for a while, I guess now I have an opportunity to do so. By the way, I did not know you lived here."

Drift glanced downwards, mouth setting to smile but evening out into a straight line instead. -"Most of us do. The housing market is a bit tough."

Blurr sensed it was a gross understatement, too but wondered why Drift and Ratchet just did not move in together. It would have made so much sense unless… unless it was not so simple between them and knowing Ratchet, it likely was not.

-"Oh, by the way, I convinced Jazz to teach me some circuit su." Drift brightened and for the first time excitement flickered in his optics.

-"I had some beginner's training for self-defense purposes but I went nowhere as deep as Jazz or Prowl had. Are you learning for the sake new techniques or have you decided to commit to the entire philosophy as well?"

Drift shrugged -"I am not much of a philosophy mech so I will start with what is more familiar to me."

So it was the new techniques, but knowing Jazz, chances were Drift would be down into it without even noticing. And that was good, both mechs needed a fresh start and a new project. When it came to assistance with integration Blurr could not imagine a better mech than Jazz.

Just like that Blurr's washrack turn had arrived and he bade Drift a good evening. What the swordsmech had told him about the housing situation did gnaw on his circuits. If Decepticons were discriminated against, that would potentially lead to another conflict.

* * *

-"Breakdown?" Blurr proceeded carefully patting his sensor antenna dry. -"About the detention cells...not that I am implying you end up there often, but are Decepticons detained more often than Autobots?"

Breakdown hummed as he poured some warm energon for Blurr. -"Can't say for sure. I got detained a total of 3 times since our arrival to Cybertron, including this one. Sorry I did not tell you on our work interview but they were strange accusations like inappropriate public behaviour and public intoxication. Honest, nothing more, you can have a copy of my citizen's record if you want to."

Blurr assured that he trusted Breakdown's word but this left him more suspicious than relieved. Inappropriate public behavior was not something Blurr would have pinned on the usually self-conscious mech. -"What did you do?"

-"I, uh, well. You know my hands transform into hammers, right?" Breakdown made a little demonstration and Blurr involuntarily flinched back to avoid any shifting bits making contact with him in the cramped kitchen corner.

-"Yeah, some mecha got the same reaction, thought I was violent, threatening. And ya know, 'cons are easier to spot, we are big like that, to Autobots we must look threatening half the time." Breakdown shrugged, pouring some energon for himself as well. -"Someone called the enforcers, I lost my job."

Blurr blinked, -"That is not very fair." Blurr imagined that many Autobots had gotten away with worse and kept their position.

-"Well, times are strange, no one wants trouble."

Breakdown shrugged and placed his bumper on the floor with care - not to upset the small table in front of him. The only proper seating in his tiny utilitarian quarters he had offered to Blurr.

-"Mecha do not yet trust each other so it makes sense the factions hire their own. That mech needed a construction bot rather than a drone and Autobots just are not made for that."

-"So, you try being employed by Autobots despite the adversity?"

-"Trying can't hurt and you hired me after all. Besides, can't change things if you only make orders at the top, bottom has to move as well."

Blurr thought about it for a moment and then chuckled -"What are you doing being a bouncer? You ought to go, speak some reason into the senate!"

Breakdown actually smiled and blushed, rubbing the back of his helm. -"I ain't primely enough."

-"Prime is just a title that indicates you went to certain academies and enables you to own a spaceship with transwarp technology. No, no don't laugh, that is actually a fact." Blurr waggled a finger in the air as if admonishing Breakdown for disbelief. -"So as long as you legally own a ship like that you can call yourself Prime. Even Decepticons have one legally appointed Prime, though chances are his Primehood may have been retracted by now."

Breakdown spurted his energon before he managed stopping himself and apologised profoundly because now Blurr was covered in spittle an energon.

-"Pit, let me get you a towel.." Breakdown returned with a small washbasin and a towel and handed them to Blurr. -"Actually I always wondered if it was Primeship, Primehood, Primacy?"

-"More like Primeworthiness and even that would be wrong because I have serious reservations about Sentinel being Primeworthy."

-"How about Primal?"

Blurr cackled. -"Oprimus the Primal!"

-"Primal Sentinel?"

-"Ultra Primal Magnus?"

Breakdown boomed with laughter.

Next morning Blurr was roused from his recharge by a ping from the public records office. His request for the data access for the records of the last battle on Earth had been processed and he was free to pick up the data packet at the local archive. Right, he had almost forgotten about his other pet project.


	17. Giants on the Move

Giants move in the background

* * *

It was still early but Blurr could no longer convince himself that counting cracks in the ceiling was going to put him in recharge. He tried keeping his stretching routine as quiet as possible, so at least Breakdown could benefit from a night's rest. The mood suppressants had finally worn off and Blurr was hesitant about poking the tender spot in his spark associated with the oil house. This made him wonder when had he become so attached to his business, and perhaps more importantly, why did he have to get so attached? It always caused him more grief than it was worth and even now he felt he could bawl his spark out at the slightest trigger.

That was the moment Breakdown then chose to turn on his back and release a resonant snore; Blurr smiled a little and rubbed the beginnings of coolant away from his optics. That red speedster will have to dial back on his audio input if things work out between them.

Treading lightly, Blurr snuck to the door; he did not want to wake the bruiser or even worse - startle him. Frontliners and heavy hitters tended to overreact something fierce when caught off-guard. Blurr did not want to find out if Breakdown did. He had contemplated paying a visit to Drift, now that he knew where the mech lived; but in the end he elected to pick up morning energon for Breakdown and himself.

The area where the bruiser lived was close to the Old docks and Blurr was treading on familiar tarmac in no time. Now the task was to pinpoint what Breakdown might like; he was a heavyweight so their energy needs were likely to be quite similar. In a moment of inspiration Blurr made a sharp turn and a beeline to a tiny corner vendor who served blends that appealed to a wide range of tastes. He zeroed in on the place with enthusiasm of a mech who was likely early and likely first in line. The minicon twins working there had a wild sense of humor but regardless, they knew Blurr's orders by spark.

The booth stood eerily still, with protective slats still drawn over its windows and entrance. Blurr glanced at his chronometer again, was he too early? By now there should have been a casettibot bustling around and rolling out the outdoor tables. It was quiet though, there were no signs of activity and after a closer look Blurr noticed barely-there scrubbed-out scorch marks and bits of shattered glass lodged in cracks in the pavement. Had this place been vandalised, too? Perturbed, he headed to another vendor; that shop was filled to its capacity, mecha gathering around large screens to watch the news.

Intrigued, Blurr came closer, Sentinel Prime, the Regent Magnus was giving a speech to the masses. The loud banter made it impossible to hear his exact words but the tiny rolling commentary script on the bottom of the video indicated that he was apologising for the drone incident the night before and also condoning something called … HDG whilst the said HDG (Blurr did not manage to catch the full name of whatever the acronym stood for, a health group of some sort) representative stated that they were not to blame.

Blurr lingered but the news moved on to latest gossip about presumed mixed-faction couples and acid rain forecast. There was no way Blurr could get energon in that crowded location so he slunk off to pick up a box of gelled energon goodies instead.

By the time he poked his helm into Breakdown's suite, the bruiser was already up and fresh from the washracks.

-"Hey, sorry for sneaking out without letting you know, I did not want to wake you but the energon joint on the corner was… well it looked like it had been put out of commission."

That drew Breakdown's attention and he paused his polishing.

-"The twins?"

Blurr set the box of jellies on the table.

-"Yeah, do you know them? By the way, I hope you like this, I ran out of reputable options."

-"More like, know of them. There are not many of us left." Breakdown shrugged and approached the mystery box Blurr was currently opening with unabated curiosity. Blurr paused, a cold realization settled in the pit of his tanks. Autobots had Vector Sigma and home base on Cybertron to produce as many mecha as necessary, Decepticons did not. Even if each warframe was capable of taking on several Autobots at once, in the end they would have been outnumbered.

-"Your ranks were dwindling." Decepticons were being driven to extinction and the only remaining course of survival for them had been this ceasefire. Suddenly Blurr was not that hungry anymore.

-"Also that." Breakdown took this in stride and popped a jelly in his mouth.

-"There is more to it?"

-"We are a bit more old-fashioned when it comes to, ya know, creating sparks." Breakdown fidgeted a bit, refusing to meet Blurr's optics.

-"Creating?" Blurr was familiar with the term but in a more archaic setting. The text books on the matter described it was an energy-costly affair of producing a new spark from a spark merge of two individuals. This new spark would then lodge in a tank somewhere in their bodies and develop protomatter while nourished by their bodily fluids and once _hatched_? would carry traits of the both donor sparks but in no foreseeable fashion. Theory had been sufficient for Blurr, he found the mechanics of spark emerging from a chassis like some creepy alien parasite deeply unsettling. So he just chalked it up to something their ancestors had done but Autobots no longer had need of … -"Like Predacons?"

-"I never thought of it that way. But I guess that is the closest comparison, Knock Out could explain better."

-"And Decepticons, I mean, you guys still do it?"

Breakdown's faceplates heated up -"We used to. War is not the best time for carrying bitlets. Also there are few parts available for their frames. I mean you can get Destronium from dead chassis but that would defeat the purpose..." Breakdown trailed off, having tread on a particularly morbid patch of Decepticon existence. Blurr elected to not know more about that and delved into another facet of Decepticon reproduction.

-"Bitlet, is that how you call the newsparks?"

-"Yeah, until they mature. Sometimes, if you retain a good relation, you would keep on calling them that and they would hate it."

They had almost forgotten the energon jellies and Blurr encouraged the bruiser to have more. Once settled for their morning fueling, Blurr could not contain his curiosity.

-"Do you remember your, uh, creators?"

-"Yeah, but I did not want to keep in touch with them back then, I regret it now. I do not know what became of them, hopefully they are still online somewhere."

-"And have you considered having bitlets of your own?"

-"If I find a party that is willing, why not?"

Breakdown's expression was wistful and Blurr bit down a question about whether or not he considered the red racer as a prospective co-creator. That probably was not a polite thing to ask.

Instead Blurr wondered just how tricky it must be to raise and nurture a spark to a moment when it is ready to be a mech of it's own. With Autobots the factories and automated nurseries took care of that. The effort of a single or two mechs was beyond Blurr, he could not comprehend how anyone could sacrifice so much of themselves for the sake of something so unpredictable.

-"I think that is a concept I will have difficulties internalizing."

Breakdown shrugged. -"I get that Autobots have different means now. Pit, I'm not sure if they, I mean you …" Breakdown gestured wildly, in his agitation one of his hands transformed into a hammer -"... I mean Autobots; even have kept the equipment for that." He paused in his flailing and transformed his hand back, giving his wrist a little squeeze. -"But if you want to know more about mechanics of the entire, em, thing, you can ask Knock Out. Now I have some work to do." He added hastily while turning away, Blurr could have sworn Breakdown's faceplates were glowing from heat.

-"Oh." Blurr had assumed Breakdown only worked for him.

-"I do maintenance of this building as a side-job. Means I don't have to pay the rent and I just got a ping for a leaky pipe on 34th level."

Blurr took a handful of jellies with him and thanked Breakdown for letting him stay over. It was late enough for more establishments to be open and Blurr had a full-on schedule of his own to complete.

First was the visit to the local archive. Blurr stood in line for the access terminal to download his data packet while a mech at the head of the line took his sweet time and fiddled with controls and double-checked the requirements. Blurr tapped his toepiece, spun one of his footwheels, made a mech in front of him glance back in annoyance. Burr scowled back - it was not his fault that it took so long but he stopped what he was doing. Instead he chose to inspect a notice board located on the opposite wall. Among notices for vocational courses, sales announcements for used furniture and charity pamphlets glowed a tiny, rectangular projection with the glyphs HDG on it, no explanation of its purpose, no further information on who put it there. Blurr made a note to research this further when a commotion at the head of the line drew his attention.

-"I requested the information like your archive interface asked me to!"

The bot, actually, judging by their size, probably a Decepticon, had solicited the assistance of one of the archive workers. Something had gone wrong in their application process… Having had the luxury of Elite Guard pass whenever any data was involved, Blurr wondered if this was a common occurrence when it came to the civilians. The argument died down when the archivist lead the mech away, the line moved, another mech struggled with the terminal but with more success this time, it still went slow.

In the end Blurr resigned to reading the news, the aptly-called Night of Drones had caused an upheaval in the headlines, specifics of the intended outcomes were published, Sentinel claimed that premature drone release Had been encouraged but not directly ordered. Perceptor spoke on behalf of the Autobot research team that it all had been a big miscalculation and curiously Beta again… it was clear to Blurr that Decepticons heavily relied on her for mediation. Wasn't Shockwave the head of the Decepticon science team? Shouldn't he be the one apologising? Blurr frowned when he dug in his data banks trying to find when was the last time Shockwave had made a public appearance. It has been a while.

Blurr moved mindlessly with the queue; hiding in plain sight was what Shockwave was most adept at. With his knowledge and understanding of Autobots it would only make sense for him to be the negotiator but he was a notorious 'con, a scary 'con. Compared to him Beta was non-threatening…there was almost no data on on her prior to the truce. She had conveniently appeared when they needed a new face unassociated with terror for smoothing conflicts.

Could it be that they cooperated? Or more likely - Shockwave had put her in charge because he had to act under the radar. And That thought alone made Blurr very nervous. He made another note to find out more about Beta. Maybe Jazz knew something, Drift looked approachable, Ratchet was likely to know if she had been around for long enough...

Just like that it was Blurr's turn to struggle with the terminal. Apparently the information he had requested was normally available free of charge but while applying for it, Blurr had forgotten to uncheck a box or two which stated that he was willing to pay for the information if it was provided sooner. Normally he would not have had an issue with that if not for a bar that badly needed repairs. When faced with an option of abandoning his current request and applying again or paying, Blurr just paid for the service and swore to never employ the archive services again.

His next destination was at the enforcer station where he had an appointment with Blaster about the vandalism, then he had a visit at Jazz's, and finally, reluctantly, he would need to head to his poor, demolished wreck of a bar.

* * *

Struggling with terminals is literally my life. Thank you for all your reads, kudos and faves!


	18. Surveillance

-"Hello there, friend, you look like you could use some help!"

Blurr stopped, mouth parted to tell the mech to which orifices he could apply this 'help' but stopped himself before anything accusatory came out. The meeting with his insurance representatives had left him raw and wary as if the paint had been rubbed off his chassis. The need to provide the evidence that the vandalism had not been his own doing had baffled and anonyed him beyond belief. Regardless, unimpressed as his expression was, it did not deter the purple-opticked mech from pursuing him.

-"Need a short-term loan?"

On second though the presence of this mech just a couple mechanometers from the official entrance to the civil insurance company showed how badly they needed enforcers. With their settlements denied, mecha were likely to fall victim to shady and potentially dangerous credit lending deals. And those were probably only a fraction of the range of 'services' this mech offered.

-"No, thank you."

-"How about a long-term investment?"

-"No, please leave me alone."

-"A mini-loan?"

Blurr pressed his lip plates into a grim line, apparently to this mech he looked like a victim. Anger and annoyance set his already raw cirquits ablaze. Just for a moment he put up all the token reasons why he should not engage - his was not his fight, this was not his duty, he did not have to get involved in more potentially dangerous activities... Yet, after having been through the virtual grinder in the span of the few last cycles Blurr felt there was a need to instill at least some karmic justice in the world.

Blurr turned to face the mech, optics falling on the purple badge directly in his line of sight.

-"I see something interests you, my friend."

The mech's voice was smooth, the smile - practiced. He was heavier, taller and much more at ease than Blurr was. There was no way Blurr could go physical with the mech but the glint of the optic lense off the corner of the building reassured him.

-"Show me your licence."

-"I beg your pardon?" The mech had the audacity to look confused.

-"On who's behalf are you offering monetary assistance and what is your legal standing?"

Blurr narrowed his optics, crossing arms over his chestplate, trying to stare down the mech while looking upwards. He was no enforcer but it did not mean that citizens could not stand up for themselves, or in this case, make this mech's life a tiny bit less palatable.

-"You do realise that predatory lending, among other things, is illegal and punishable."

-"No need to be so aggressive. I am free to say what I want on the street and you are yet to prove any misconduct on my behalf."

-"You just hailed me."

-"You are not an enforcer."

-"I am still acting within my duty as a citizen of Iacon and I am allowed to restrain you until arrival of enforcers who do have the legal standing to further question you."

The mech laughed. -"What enforcers? The same ones that were pulled back just few nights ago?"

Blurr scowled but he was not finished yet.

-"Alternatively I can escort you to the enforcer station myself. I invite you to come peaceably."

The mech took a cursory look around - surveillance cameras were blatantly obvious on the facade of the building; Blurr hadn't missed them and neither had the mech. With a sneer he transformed and drove off at an unhurried pace which Blurr found taunting and defiant. He did take a couple of snapshots of the mech in question but did not give chase, tempting as it was. In his current position he was ill-equipped to deal with hostilities.

Blurr did feel a tiny flutter of accomplishment in his spark; maybe today fewer mecha will be endangered by this mech, at least here. Blurr did not harbor any expectations to having actually achieved anything significant, chances were the mech would return the same day or the day after...

With a little vent he transformed and was on his way. Even if he had been spiky and uncooperative with the presumed lackey of a loan shark he did need financial help. The settlement he got would not be enough to get the oil house fully operational, not even with a tiny fortune he had set aside as his backup reserves for a rainy day.

The way things were going Blurr would actually need to get another job just to be able to afford opening the oil house again. He had considered nightracing for credits but he did not want to exacerbate the problem of illegal dealings which clearly was on the rise now.

Once on the main road he scrolled through the latest postings on the job market.

A company in search of an enthusiastic and hard-working plumber with related experience of at least...,

A courrier job drew his attention - only half shifts and positive attitu…

Blurr broke sharply. He had almost plastered himself into the back bumper of another mech… again. He should have learnt this last time he had multitasked...

-"OW! Fraggit!"

With his lightspeed reflexes Blurr may have managed avoiding collision but someone behind him hadn't. Namely a larger escort-frame mech had rammed into his backside with gusto. Internally Blurr wilted - at least one of his eccentric axles was misaligned and he did not even need an HUD notification to feel that, another warning popped up shortly after informing him about a jammed joint.

-"Don't mess with Swindle again." Hissed the mech who had so beautifully left his bumper inprint in Blurr's behind.

-"Wha, who?"

Blurr was baffled but the mech had already made a u-turn and was speeding in the opposite direction. The only thing Blurr could do was take a snapshot of that mech as well. Ok, so another name to add to the list of mecha who were for some reason willing to see him suffer, great, he might as well make a portfolio. The only good thing was that he had been on his way to Ratchet's anyway, Jazz would probably know who Swindle was.

* * *

Blurr commed Ratchet after having spent the better part of an hour bickering with the clinic's reception. More precisely about the 'No-alt modes in service areas' policy and him being there for the express purpose of being unstuck from the said alt mode.

Blurr waited, so did the receptionist. There was no immediate answer to his comm but moments later Drift came out to politely cart him off.

-"Was the receptionist new?"

-"In a manner of speaking, yes. The science department came up with the idea of getting the drones accustomed to social situations before they are released back in field to perform their duties as enforcers."

Blurr could see merit in that but still, socializing should happen with educational professionals, not vulnerable mecha who needed well-adjusted individuals to help them. Drift leant closer to Blurr's chassis as to share a more personal thought.

-"They are impressionable, be conscious of what you say in their presence."

Blurr could not readily emote in his alt mode but his lights brightened and dimmed slightly, what was Drift implying?

-"Are there any more stationed in the medical center? Just so that I know what to expect?"

Drift canted his helm to the side slightly and Blurr followed his gaze. Another drone was cleaning the hallway.

-"A rather expensive investment for janitorial duties."

-"They rotate." Drift explained plainly and continued rolling Blurr to Ratchet's office.

* * *

When Blurr finally limped into Jazz's medical ward, fresh welds making his plating tender, he was not expecting to see what he did. Jazz sat in a meditation pose and next to him, in a far more fidgety arrangement of limbs, sat Drift.

Half of Jazz's visor onlined and he gave Blurr a half-smirk in acknowledgement.

Jazz addressed Drift first. -"I think our time is over for now, make sure to go through those motions, even if you do not feel anything behind them yet."

Blurr smiled a little - before parting the swordsmech and Jazz bowed to eachother. It looked that for once Drift had been at peace with himself, or at least as peaceful as a remorseful spark could be.

-"Sorry to interrupt, I could have returned later." Blurr stated while looking at Drift's retreating finials, still visible above the dividing walls of the medical ward cubicles.

-"No, no, mech, you stay right here and tell me what happened. I heard Ratchet curse from 2 corridors down."

Blurr told him, about the drones, about the slurs and about the vandalism and his most recent development. In all honesty he was getting tired of re-telling the most of his plights but Jazz deserved to know firsthand.

After a moment of silence Jazz spoke up.

-"This is bad news; Swindle's an arms peddler. Usually stays out of trouble but without enforcers to keep him in line he must be getting bold." Jazz saw Blurr's expression, his revved-up attitude which indicated that he wanted to set things on fire, and his visor dimmed.-"Don't drive yourself into a corner. Things are bad but ya can't make 'em eat you." Jazz's voice rang with a tone of seriousness which came from experience.

Blurr released a vent of hot air. -"You know, you are right. Would you mind If I stayed here and meditated with you for a bit? I am a bit rusty but..."

Jazz just gestured for Blurr to make himself comfortable.

They stayed like this for a while - Blurr's engine revving and calming as his twitchy chassis prompted him to move and he forced them to comply and be still.

After a short moment Blurr realised that it was too much for him.

-"Chill, mech, it's a matter of pracice. " Jazz soothed.

Blurr settled once he was not constrained by the static meditative pose. There was one thing he did want to say.

-"I'm glad you took in Drift, regardless of his faction."

-"With most of disciples scattered, I fear the cyberninja legacy would be lost and, Drift looked like he could benefit from some stillness now more than ever."

Blurr could not agree more. -"That sounds like an excellent idea. Will you move into the dojo then?"

Jazz shook his helm. -"Without master Yoketron to guard the protoforms the cyberdojo was closed and the remaining protoforms - moved to the research center."

-"Oh, but doesn't taking up a pupil make you a master?""

-"The grand masters would appoint the mech who had the most mastery of mind and matter to be the one in charge of the dojo." A wistful expression passed his faceplates. -"The grand masters are gone, but I met a mech who showed me that true mastery was not tied to a title. So I think, if I follow in his footsteps humbly, I might eventually succeed, dojo or not."

Blurr sat there not sure if he should congratulate Jazz or feel deep sorrow on his behalf. Cyberdojo still was a beacon of cyberninja culture. The silence lingered and Blurr feared he would come across as disinterested, yet if he spoke it would break the solemn weight of what Jazz had just divulged. Worrying his lipplates between denta Blurr thought he had finally come up with the response which would probably suit the most.

-"Jazz? I think, wherever he is, Prowl is proud of you."


	19. Cold Comfort

This chapter had me tinkering with bits and pieces of evidence for quite some time whilst the bulk of the text had been already written.

* * *

Appearance of Lugnut supreme, miraculous restoration of the Allspark? Blurr tried finding more on the subject but the only thing mentioned was a vague "An unnamed soldier sacrificed themselves in a heroic act of restoring the Allspark." No mentions of how this amazing feat had happened or that it had been Prowl who had done it.

In his temporary headquarters in Breakdown's kitchen corner Blurr hummed and sipped his energon. The twins had been quick to bounce back from what appeared had been vandalism as well. Mostly because they kept their reserves off-site and their joint was small - hence, the area that needed repairs was also smaller. They had become a bit more suspicious and guarded but were happy to greet their frequent customer.

When Blurr asked for another serving to take away with him they even exchanged knowing glances and Blurr got a distinct feeling that they probably extrapolated a bit too much from an extra ration of energon.

Back to Prowl, lauding him as a martyr who offlined to protect his teammates and, by extention, an entire city of uninvolved organic bystanders would have set an example of how a proper Autobot soldier should behave. Was it that he was not mentioned because of his strained history with the Command? Was the restoring of the Allspark not described in detail because of general concern for the more impressionable parts of the public or was it part of Sentinel's dislike to organic life forms? Maybe it was the coding indoctrination?

Blurr remembered one of his Decepticon patrons explaining in great length and detail why telling a member of their faction that 'some trait or other was not in their coding' was a bad idea. The mecha who had eventually become Decepticons had coding of service drones or defense units at best. They would not have risen and rebelled had they followed that logic, in theory most of them did not have it in their coding to do what they did and kept on doing.

-"Hey, uh, boss? How do I look?"

Blurr blinked, being temporarily thrown by the change of pace. Breakdown Was uncharacteristically glowy. Blurr stood up and circled the bruiser's ramrod-stiff frame; the finish Breakdown had opted for was less glossy but worked well with his overall build and frame, softening his angular planes and making his appearance more friendly and approachable. It was Blurr's turn for casting conspiratory smiles.

-"I think he'll like it."

Breakdown's faceplates heated up, making the air around his helm shimmer, he even smiled a little.

-"I, I decided to accept his proposal after all."

Blurr's faceplate almost split from the grin he was wearing.

-"Well, he better be a gentlemech about it, because if he isn't he will have to deal with me." Blurr puffed his chassis and jabbed a thumb at his chestplate. -"Also, if things go awkward and you need rescue, comm me." Blurr made a gesture of tapping the side of his helm in a way one would when receiving a message.

-"Aw, boss. I…" Breakdown fidgeted again and Blur took a precautionary step back just in case the hammer transformation sequence triggered. -" I just wanted to let you know that I might not return for the night."

Blurr found it wholly unnecessary for Breakdown to explain himself but it was a considerate gesture nonetheless.

-"Duly noted, now off you go, have fun and sweep him off his peds."

Warmth settled in the pit of Blurr's chest when he saw Breakdown's excitement; he focused on the feeling. Things might not work out for them but at least now, in this small space of time - there was this flittery ambience of hope and affection and confirmation that not everything in this world was a steaming slagheap of misery - Blurr drew comfort from it.

Then he remembered a certain datapad in his quarters, a datapad with the other side of the story, Prowl's story, hopefully, that Blurr could uncover. It might have been still intact. He was not yet cleared to come into the building but with any luck the top floor where his actual loft was might have escaped the brunt of the damage.

* * *

It was strange - Blurr felt like a criminal, sneaking into his own bar. The location was quiet - for all purposes the oil house looked like any other abandoned warehouse in the district. The vibrant graffiti on the side of the wall remained but new tags had been added to the design. Things Blurr did not find comfortable. While nothing as bad as he had witnessed the first night, the HDG tag over the taped-off entrance made him wary. The letters were familiar and he was certain he had seen them before - the archive, no, the news!

Suddenly it became much more pressing for him to find out what HDG stood for. Tucking away that thought Blurr spied an opening he could use without breaking the seals of the enforcers.

A pipe, colored in patches with soot looked like the least intrusive way in. Blurr climbed through one of the blasted-out windows and found himself in his eerily undisturbed loft.

It looked as if whatever had transpired downstairs had not reached this place. Regardless, Blurr sensed something amiss but could not single out what...yet. This reminded him the exercise back in the Elite Guard academy where within one lunar cycle they had to sneak into their fellow cadet's suites undetected and take one item without rousing suspicion. Returning to his dorms every dark cycle had been like a trial.

This time, though, the stakes were real.

Blurr crept along the side of the wall, wary of trigger-traps or other possible nastiness the perpetrators could have left in their wake.

Then his optics fell on a misaligned datapad in the shelf. Someone had searched his place, he was not sure why, but that was a disturbing development. Now Blurr looked around more carefully - his berth pad was slightly disturbed. One of the styluses in his holder was put in with the wrong end. For a sneaky search it was jarringly obvious as if someone had intentionally left it like that for Blurr to find.

Frowning, Blurr looked at the datapad which had contained the Decepticon records of the Earth battle. It lay where he had last left it, experimentally he switched it on and scrolled through the contents, it was blank. Whatever had been there had been wiped clean.

The timestamp indicated that the last time it had been activated coincided with the approximate time of the vandalism and Blurr was certain it had not been by him. He felt a pang of remorse because most likely two of the following scenarios happened - either the data was lost completely or someone else had it. And it was very unfortunate because the publicly available archive content was only a plain text file, whilst what Shockwave had provided had been so much more.

Would Shockwave be willing to share it again? Blurr shuddered, plating rattling, since when had he started thinking of Shockwave as a mech he could ask things from? Not having bumped into him for the last decacycles made the mech feel somewhat more conceptual, less...real somehow.

Blurr sniffed, reminding himself that Shockwave was still out there and that was probably one of his maneuvers. For all Blurr knew this could have been Shockwave's doing and who knew, all the data he had given could have been falsified or altered...

His processor ached, all this sneaking had been for nothing. Reluctantly he climbed down the service ladder to once more survey the damaged bar. Most lights hsd been blown out so Blurr had torely on his own lights. The shards of broken cubes crunched under his pedes. Under his high beams they looked like crushed diamonds. The oil drums had been punctured, the energon vials smashed in their stands. There were darker spots on the floor where the fires had been extinguished, scattered footprints - where the evidence had been collected, Blaster was likely to let him return to the bar soon enough.

Now it was just Blurr looking for a place to start; was there a point in starting? He swiped his fingers over the edge of the barrel, soot-encrusted surface staining his fingers black.

Glancing once more at the place where the white writing remained he brought the fingers to his face and traced the black residue around his optics - the motion was soothing in its familiarity. He used to do that when he was on missions - to reduce glare or reflections his plating might cast on his optics when he raced.

Blurr lost track of what he was doing until he realised that absentmindedly he had traced the black dust over his plating, gradually replacing the light blue with opaque black - soot sticking to the waxy surface of polished metal. With detached sort of curiosity, Blurr continued until only his striking crystalline optics remained uncovered, he dimmed them.

When he stepped into the dark alleyway the night swallowed him whole.

* * *

Tonight there was a night race but Blurr had not come to participate. He took to the rooftops, searching for one 'con who saw much and told little. He edged along the wall, having spotted his quarry.

Ravage twitched his audial but remained otherwise static.

Blurr knew from that one gesture that he had been spotted and gave up on the pretense.

-"Grieving paint? Did not think you were that old..."

Blurr let out an amused vent and came closer to the edge to the roof to observe the crowd below.

-"You're the one to talk."

-"I forget how fragile you Autobots can be but my paint job is for the sake of stealth rather than out of any suffering on my behalf."

-"Would you be willing to part with a couple of secrets for my sake? I do not have much to give at the moment…"

-"It's about the chassis at your back door, right?"

-"Among other things."

Ravage made a noncommittal chuf. -"Let us say someone out there is looking out for you."

Blurr stepped away with a gasp, scandalised. Having gotten used to seeing the catbot on regular basis he had overlooked the fact that the feline was also a killing machine -"Why? I don't understand. How does this count as looking out?"

-"An army-grade Autobot without factory numbers…" Ravage continued, referring to the offlined bot. -"I'm surprised nobody has raised questions about this."

Now that Blurr thought about it, the entire thing had been swept under the carpet. Illegal or unregistered chassis manufacturing was forbidden. OR, the bots had concealed their factory numbers as they would have been indicative of their identity.

Regardless of whether or not Blurr was following, Ravage continued -"There were no signs of breaking in because nobody broke in." It took a moment for Blurr to pick up what Ravage referred to. The reason why his insurance settlement ran as low as it did. -"The enforcer drone never bothered closing the door after knocking you out; the rest was easy."

-"Did you see the perpetrators?"

The optics of Ravage flashed brilliant red.

-"That information is spoken for."

-"By my mysterious benefactor?"

-"If you wish to call it that way." Ravage stated in rumbling sub-tones, swishing his tail component from one side to the other. Blurr took it as a sign of impatience.

-"Is the enforcer issue and the vandalism in my bar related incidents?"

-"Yes, but not in the way you think. They just took advantage of the situation."

-"Am I right to assume that those who make the drones may also be those who are responsible for what happened to me?"

Ravage remained silent for a moment. Weighing out his next words. Blurr prepared himself for a vague and misleading answer.

-"No. Your interest lays in the opposite direction." Ravage turned his snout to look past Blurr. The racer followed his stare.

A riddle, the feline did not disappoint, as usual. Opposite direction, opposite direction...Ravage was pointing at the Research facility which was on the opposite side to...Iacon Medical complex? That's where Ratchet worked, where Jazz remained, where Ultra Magnus was being treated.

-"I don't understand."

Ravage stood up and stretched, casting a glance below - the race was about to begin. Blurr peeked a look as well, the mecha in alt modes were already lined up, revving their engines for the pleasure of spectators.

-"By the way, how much does it pay to be a mercenary?"

Upon receiving no answer Blurr looked up, Ravage was gone.

* * *

Ravage is employing DaVinci Code levels of obscure-talk and Batman style of exit.


	20. Mercenary

This may be the last update in some time. I have a couple of super intensive summer courses coming up and I will have to focus on them.  
Never fear, I still have some 40+ pages of unedited content begging to be published, so enjoy your vacation from NLT while it lasts. :)

On the other note. Man, this is finally the chapter where our lovely pairing finally starts on their chemistry. Yep, I needed like 20 chapters for that...

Slow clapping

AND apologies for the choppiness, I really had to get this chapter out, like STAT.

* * *

Blurr keyed the access code to Breakdown's suite and smirked to himself when he found it empty. Judging by the time of the night the bruiser probably got lucky after all. After a visit to the washracks and pushing the new information to his deeper levels of processing there was little left for him to do. This left Blurr with no other option but to take full advantage of the suite that was completely at his disposal… or maybe not. True, he was running hot but it was Breakdown's home and it felt wrong somehow.

So instead he sat down on the floor in a position that allowed him to relax and tried reaching the state of mind which Jazz often described as 'the groove'.

Moments passed, the groove failed to appear and Blurr wrapped his arms around himself for comfort. He was no cyberninja, he needed real touch and real sensations, ethereal substances did not do it for him.

Truth was he missed his own space, a good frag and a vacation, a long one, somewhere away from everything like Acid Wastes or better yet - another planet. The only problem being that he was not likely to afford it any time soon if things developed as they did. He flopped down on the floor and let his optics drift shut.

Of course, recharge just was unable to offer him any respite. He dreamed of interface, this time with multiple partners, the heat and tension made Blurr's processor claw to the surface of the deep recharge and he woke up with a frustrated whimper. Sometimes he really hated his intel upgrades and side effects they triggered. Essentially he really Needed to let off some steam in the most straightforward way possible.

The only hitch with the entire thing was that he could not yet trust anyone enough to allow them to touch him intimately. Blurr gnashed his denta together, this just propelled his thoughts back to Shockwave and how much he loathed him.

Not willing to walk around in the state he was, but being even less enthused about being seen like this by Breakdown in the off chance the bruiser returned early; Blurr tied a mesh around his midsection. Not conspicuous At All but still a better option than the alternative. It did not help that he ran into a few bots on his way, contributing to the image one might associate with the walk of shame. Blurr rolled his optics, what were they doing up this early anyway? At least there was no line for the washracks, the little blessings.

* * *

It was one of those days when irritability oozed from the gaps in Blurr's plating no matter how much he wished to keep it contained, and it was not for the events of the day as such. So he indulged in letting it go through least offensive means. He cursed at the traffic all the way to the enforcer station where he was given green light to enter his bar officially. He cursed all the way back to his bar about the amount of paperwork he had to fill in.

He scrolled through the enforcer report while waiting in the traffic congestion. A note got his attention - the loft above the bar had been searched for evidence by the enforcers... Alright, that explained the moved items… but not the erased datapad. Blurr pondered for a moment but let the subject be, it was not like he was going to resolve this damned mess any time soon.

He paused at his litany of dissatisfaction when he got a message from Breakdown - he was leaving for a bit with Knock Out but Blurr could stay in his apartment as long as necessary.

Blurr's struts sagged, anger bled out of his frame leaving him with a hollow feeling, replenished quickly by sadness. He wanted to be happy for the bruiser, he truly did, but he could not help being jealous of the red speedster, if only a bit. In their brief period of being acquainted Breakdown had cemented his presence as a point of stability. Blurr did not want to be alone yet he did not want to be a burden either. Blaster was too busy, Jazz himself needed support and now it felt like Blurr was losing Breakdown, too.

He now stood before the door of the oil house, the HDG tag irritating him more than a scrappy graffiti should. In one swift motion and removed the enforcer tape from the door, effectively cutting through the middle of the painted glyphs.

Steeling himself, Blurr keyed access. The bar was as he had left it and Blurr felt instantly tired when he looked at the wreckage. He just wished he could somehow skip all the busywork of patching up his place and go back to being a barkeep like nothing had happened.

Heh, right; Blurr grimaced at his own naivety and paused to look at the white glyphs on the wall. They were bitter and cutting but Were they accusatory at him personally? He had jumped to this conclusion because it was true for him but his had not been the only place that suffered vandalism. Nobody would go through so much trouble to target him alone, no, this was bigger than him. The thought was somewhat soothing.

Following this train of reasoning he went to his loft and pulled up his search engine. Time to investigate what HDG stood for. The mysterious group had first come to his notice mostly because of the controversy it caused but it was too obviously there to ignore and gaining too much recognition in a short span of time.

He had to dig through layers of rabidly openminded and friendly texts about inter-faction friendships until he got to the point. Blurr pushed off his work desk and chuckled, there was no mirth in his laugh though. He slid his fingers over his antenna and vented, frag, what was happening to mecha? He sought out the closest HDG meeting spot and booked a visit, he wanted to personally see if things were as bad as they looked.

Drumming his fingers on the dusty desk he recalled the conversation with Ravage. His interest lay in the Iacon Medical facility so he had to go there first before the trail ran cold.

He also needed to approach Shockwave...somehow.

Blurr puffed a vent, as if his life was not busy enough as it was and …. Ah frag, he needed a job, too! Too many things, he needed a run.

* * *

The note from Blaster that the Elite Guard was hiring arrived like an uncomfortable truth. On one servo it was an excellent choice - Blurr already had the training, he knew the mecha and was familiar with how the establishment functioned. On the other, the Elite Guard Was like entering into a conjunx bond - there were no options for short-term engagement…and then there was Sentinel. In this setting Blurr would work under direct command of the Regent Magnus. The irony was not lost on him.

The higher ups were likely to make him an example of what happened to those who came back begging. Despite his preemptively stinging pride Blurr could not deny the convenience, Elite Guard was likely to treat him like scrap but it paid comparatively well and he was not planning to build a career there. He just wanted to earn a good amount in relatively short time so he could return to what he really wanted to do. Which meant that instead of enrolling fully he would have to become a contracter.

* * *

Blurr wilted internally when he did have to enter the Command building. Applications were to be made in person for profiling reasons probably.

He joined the line of mechs who were waiting at attention for Sentinel to inspect them in a manner which he preferred. After a cursory glance over who else had applied Blurr noted that the mecha present represented most frame types and size classes and… were all Autobot.

Blurr twitched to attention after a short syren announced the arrival of Regent Ultra Magnus; he swallowed a lump that had built in his throat. This was bound to be unpleasant.

The Regent Magnus comported himself in a manner which Blurr could recall from his Academy years - like an unpleasant instructor rather than a military leader. It was his way of establishing superiority over the new recruits and left a bad aftertaste in Blurr's intake the first time it had happened.

Sentinel actually paused after noticing Blurr in the line and sneered at him with ill-hidden contentment. It was all too obvious that in his processor Sentinel was going through all the possible scenarios of how to make Blurr miserable.

-"Look who's back, didn't take you long."

Several mecha glanced his way or full-on turned their helms to see better. For his part all Blurr could do was to stand at attention - chin up, chestplate out, pauldrons back - the image of a perfect soldier. He needed the job and this was every bit as awful as he had imagined it would go.

-"Yes, Sir."

-"Yes, well if you think you are going to be applicable for this position you are in for a disappointment. You lost your credentials the moment you resigned, private, so you will start at the very bottom of the hierarchy, like everyone else."

This was not what Blurr had in mind for himself so what he did next admittedly required a great deal of courage from him. Chin up, posture rigid, speak slow. He could do it.

-"Permission to speak, Sir!"

Sentinel considered the request for a moment and Blurr half-expected his request to be denied but surprisingly Sentinel gestured him to speak up.

-"Sir, I am willing to offer my exceptional skills in service of the Elite Guard as a hired officer. You currently have nobody who has my specific skillset or as much experience in field working under Elite Guard as myself. If you have any concerns about my performance or abilities, I am willing to prove them via the standard trials for agent evaluation at any given moment, Sir!"

Sentinel narrowed his optics and loomed over Blurr in a predatory manner.

-"Your motivation is unclear to me, soldier. You have skills but can you be trusted?"

Blurr's optics flashed an outraged white for only a moment. No matter how hurtful this statement had been in context of how much Blurr had sacrificed, giving into emotion was not professional.

-"I am merely offering my services, sir, you are free to decline them if you see it fit."

-"You will go through the same trials as everyone else, if your skills actually are as good as the records state I may consider your request."

Blurr spent the next several days preparing for the trial with the old version of the spec-ops training program which had miraculously survived his several moves on one of his pads. Admittedly, he was a bit rusty and that made him nervous, he could not afford to land a low position. Sooner than expected he received a note with time and location for his trials.

* * *

Blurr strode through the command with purpose, months ago he had wished he would not have to see these halls again and here he was. Agent trials differed from entry trials in a sense that whilst rookies were usually up against a full simulation, the agents had to simultaneously counteract and cooperate with another agent in the field who could instantaneously switch from being an ally to being an enemy, depending on the setting.

The added value of such trial was picking up the best field agent pairings. Yet, this was not a case for deep undercover agents such as Blurr. He was used to solo missions and rather liked them that way.

Briefly, Blurr went through the list of his partners and spotted no Decepticons which was good news. Autobots Blurr could handle - he would make sure to keep his solo mission status.

The trial grounds were a virtual battle arena filled with hard-light constructs and simulations designed to hurt, not kill. The moment the speakers announced the beginning of the trial Blurr made sure to fail any and every prospective partner. He was aimed at being too fast, too agile for other bots to handle.

If memory served him well, he had exhausted his list of 'partners' when he collided heavily with Ironhide. The impact had left his gyros spinning but internally he congratulated himself on having hacked the system. The arena doors opened and he walked towards them fully intending to exit a victor. His sense of triumph was short-lived. In the door, way above his helm, almost blinding in its brightness shone a single red point.

Involuntarily Blurr stopped in his tracks and backpedalled to the edge of the visible battlefield as the tall, lanky frame stepped into the room.

Charge still buzzed in his systems so Blurr did not fear fainting or going into stupor. He could not control his optics narrowing though. Just outside the simulation room he could hear faint voices and if any voices could be heard at all through the thick walls, the discussion was on the loud side. Ah, an argument, sounding like Sentinel and Ratchet, bless his spark. For his part Shockwave looked completely unfazed by his current predicament. If his expression was anything to go by he might have been anywhere else at the moment.

Blurr was about to protest when the speakers in the room buzzed to life.

-"Agents, take positions."

Pitching a Tank against him was a dirty move but fine, if Sentinel wanted a show, he would get a show. Blurr had been going somewhat easy on his previous prospective teammates but Shockwave was in for a thrashing.

The tank tilted his helm to the side slightly but that was it, no other acknowledgement; Blurr bent his helm slightly to hide his grit denta and started off with light laps around his 'partner'.

Laps accelerated until he was nigh-invisible, true to his name - just a blurr of blue. Soon he was going at a pace at which scaling walls was no problem and his acceleration reached the point where he was nigh-weightless, just an unimpeded vector of concentrated intent. At this velocity he simply passed through his light-construct opponents without batting an optic, they were not his targets. Blurr´s attention was fully focused on the Decepticon - his moves were slow, almost too slow, even for a frame his size.

Making the first move, Blurr ricocheted off the ceiling and instead of aiming for his virtual opponents, he zeroed in on one of Shockwave's antennae. Shockwave, who had remained suspiciously still until that point, ducked his helm just as much as it was necessary to avoid what could have been a debilitating impact.

That did not dissuade Blurr from bouncing off a piece of scaffolding and delivering another jab which came at an angle from bottom left and upwards, aiming for the spinal strut. Another sidestep. Shockwave turned and what had been a kick aimed at his optic ended up being a tap against one of his shoulder treads.

Blurr hopped beyond a dummy structure to regroup, actively observing the larger Decepticon from his hideout. How was he doing it? Blurr was convinced he was missing something but he had no time for more for speculations as the larger mech finally moved in pursuit, casually flicking or blasting away the holo-opponents. Shockwave had a more interesting target to pursue.

The speedster launched into action, using his temporary cover as a spot for setting up an ambush...too late, it just exploded behind him propelling his lighter frame several mechanometers outwards from the impact place. Blurr scrambled and quickly took cover. Shockwave's cannon barrel smoked as he surveyed the debris around him, he did not seem to have qualms about attacking Blurr back.

Wonderful, it was refreshing to drop the pretense of friendliness with this mech. Now the only problem was, Blurr did not have a ranged weapon, he did have plenty of sharp, pointy debris to improvise with. He grabbed what looked like an iron shard and rolled away from his initial hideout. Quietly as possible he crouched low behind another obstacle. Chancing a glance only to quickly recoil from the blast that sent the chips of structure flying.

The red optic scoured the area where Blurr had been moments ago, unbeknownst to him, the blue racer leant against a pillar on Shockwave´s periphery. There was no way for the ´con to see him there. That blind spot was the opening Blurr had waited for, in one leap he was behind Shockwave, scoring his back armor a bit too low for his liking and what seemed not fast enough.

Feeling a splash of energon was rewarding and Blurr put his strenght into the momentum only to crash painfully into an obstacle he had not foreseen having. Shockwave had anticipated this attack and outstretched his servo directly in Blurr's path. The inertia had slammed the little racer full force into what served as the larger mech's palm. Blurr felt those deadly sharp claws close in around him like a snare and expected to be eviscerated. He'd been wrong though, in sudden display of speed the mech used Blurr's own momentum to smash him into the floor of the training room, the force of the impact made his body bounce off the surface.

Pain exploded across Blurr's back and his systems screeched in response to injury, that had been much more painful than running into Ironhide.

-"Slagger." Blurr spat energon and rolled over to support himself on his fours as he tried to prevent his overtaxed pain receptors from blacking him out. No further attack followed and he noticed Shockwave's voice coming from somewhere very close.

-"Ah, I see you still function."

There was some agitated talking happening, Ratchet had burst into the room and was at his side, scanning his frame.

-"I'm fine."

-"Like pit you are. Medical ward, both of you, preferably not at the same time."

* * *

The interaction of Blurr and Shockwave in a nutshell

Beating the scrap out of your battle partner is not what chemistry makes, Turbo.

Actions


	21. Rocks and Hard Places

Welp, this happened and I am still in the thick or other things but look it! A new chapter and not a bazillion years later, too.

* * *

After a necessary cube of med-grade from Ratchet - to ensure the micro abrasions and cracks in his frame healed quicker - Blurr was left to ponder his existence. He glared at the wall of the medbay and could not believe he had been bested on his Own field of expertise.

-"I'm an idiot."

-"That you are." The elderly medic grumped -"What were you even thinking out there?"

-"What was I thinking? He was not on the list of possible partners and forgive me for making assumptions but the history of our involvement is rather well-documented. If you ask me we would be better off not interacting at all. Who thought that pitching that Tank against me was a good idea to begin with? What were They thinking?"

Ratchet covered his faceplates with a palm. This was disaster in the making.

-"Sentinel suggested to pair you up with anyone else present on the observation deck..."

-"I do not need a partner, never needed one." Blurr bemoaned.

Ratchet grumbled something under his breath but then spoke up -"It is not about what you need, Blurr. You left the Guard in a manner you did and you expect them to let you back in on your conditions?"

Blurr smirked at that.

-"Don't you grin! You decommissioned all the suitable Autobot partners on purpose and don't you dare telling me otherwise!"

Blurr vented, no point of arguing against that. -"Fine, I get it but why him? There are plenty less problematic Decepticons out there."

-"Did you even look at the simulation results?"

Judging by Blurr's expression the scores had been the last of his concerns.

-"Distracted as you were, you had the best score paired with him."

Chills ran down Blurr's backstrut; Shockwave blasting off some of their opponents rather than focusing fully on Blurr made sense now, had he been keeping track of the score? Suddenly uneasy Blurr tried rationalizing.

-"So what? I am pretty sure that I could best it with anyone else on board if I had to."

Ratchet huffed at such presumptuousness -"One of the best scores among the Guard ." Ratchet elaborated. -"Even among established partnerships."

-"It must have been a miscalculation." Blurr countered. -"Just because our scores were good does not mean we would make good partners."

At least Blurr hoped they wouldn't be put together, considering their history and that Blurr's first impulse was to attack Shockwave and Shockwave's reaction was to smack him silly.

-"Right? I mean Shockwave is a warframe, with power output he has he alone would score higher against any Autobot pairing."

Ratchet made a noncommittal sound pulled the curtain in front of Blurr to give him some privacy while he attended his other patient.

Blurr pulled himself into a tight ball when Shockwave entered the medical ward for Ratchet to inspect the scrape on his back. Blurr listened in for any smalltalk and heard what was probably the stiffest utilitarian exchange he had ever witnessed.

Blurr had not expected the tank to linger longer than necessary and actually to ask Blurr about the extent of his injuries.

Not wishing to retract the curtain that separated him from Shockwave but needing answers, Blurr begrudgingly recited what Ratchet had told him from the safety of the small secluded area that was his medberth.

A cracked scapula and a bunch of dislocated spinal struts would heal in no time but the entire back part of his armor was in shambles and needed replacement.

-"How did you see through my moves? Do you have more optics than you let on?" Blurr's flavor of fake bravado came with a tinge of offensiveness.

-"I will excuse your rudeness as a side-effect of your current state."

-"And I know for a fact that I would have to try much harder than that to get through your plating. So how?"

-"At this pace you are not giving me much incentive to wish to continue talking to you, Blurr."

Blurr rolled his optics, not like Shockwave could see but still, if his manner of speech incented him so the 'con was free to leave, Blurr owed nothing to the mech.

Silence stretched between them while Blurr waged internal war between his dislike towards the mech and the need to further his personal investigation. He needed the intel, all of it or any of what Shockwave would share and for that he needed to be cooperative.

It seemed like Shockwave had interpreted Blurr's prolonged silence as a queue that no communication was forthcoming and with a creak of gears, turned to take his leave.

-"Uh, Wait, I…" Blurr had to swallow another bout of reluctance. To his relief, Shockwave did stop to wait for him to finish.

-"I would still like to know how you read my movements, if that is not too much to ask."

This very moment Blurr wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground from the mix of conflicting feelings his processor drowned him under. Getting tangled in his own thought processes ...he indeed was rusty in his spy training, great, adding That thought to the mix did nothing to alleviate his already turbulent thoughts.

-"I anticipated resentment and I am familiar with how you run."

Blurr's thought processes aligned helpfully at the influx of new information.

-"How so?"

-"The way you plant your feet in order to maintain balance while running at high velocity."

Blurr just glared ahead of him and at his footwheels; running came naturally to him, he had never paid mind to how he did it. His venting calmed, he lifted his foot examining it from all angles, frowning.

-"Information on frame specifics is rather personal data, you know."

-"I predicted your moves based on the angle at which you left your previous spot, Blurr. Granted that the room is a cube and your preferred mode of movement being a straight line, it is not a difficult calculation to make."

Blurr felt the bottom of his tank sink - This was a serious vulnerability. If war reignited...Shockwave would know, for that matter, how long had he known already?

-"Straight line allows for most acceleration without taxing my systems." Blurr added as an afterthought.

-"And proves to be a fatal flaw against a prepared opponent. There is little you can do once you are caught."

That was not strictly true but, as exemplified in their session, Shockwave was not exactly wrong either. That fact alone annoyed Blurr on a level that reached far beyond professional and landed right in the middle of his personal sensitivities.

-"I did not have all my battle upgrades installed and You were fully armed."

-"Ah, the vagaries of civilian existence." Shockwave responded with such infuriating airiness that Blurr wanted to smack him across whatever it was that passed for his faceplace. Of course, that would not do in medbay so Blurr opted for verbal assault instead.

-"Yeah, and I still got you even with you having a ranged advantage and with no weapons to speak of."

-"Indeed, and I believe I did not need a weapon or much effort on my part to trap you."

-"Your servos ARE weapons."

-"Arguably, they were not designed as such."

-"Arguably?!"

The sound of intake clearing got their attention. Blurr noticed that some time during their argument he had stood up on his berth to be more or less at an equal level with Shockwave and now was grateful that the separating curtain was hiding him. Feeling embarrassed, he sat down. He had not expected to become so bold when Shockwave's imposing visual presence was hidden from him.

Strika's voice in the medbay surprised Blurr, he had expected Ratchet. Apparently the Command did not appreciate the little stunt they had pulled earlier. Their day was not over without a cursory reprimand from Sentinel and Strika. Though it was Sentinel who did all of the talking, it sufficed that Strika was present.

Blurr kept quiet through the entire interaction, he had started it after all, regardless of who had sustained more damage in the end, Shockwave got a remark for excess use of force. Probably the most humiliating part of it had been the fact that Blurr was required to formally apologize. He wanted to tear out his intake if only to avoid that but… peace and solidarity was more important at the moment. Or at least that was what he told them, if he had to be completely honest - he needed that job.

Biting his lip and setting up for the inevitable Blurr clamped down his plating and gave Sentinel a tight nod.

-"My conduct was unacceptable. I have no excuse on attacking my…." Blurr had some difficulty there. -" My fellow Cybertronian in such a manner." Surprisingly enough Shockwave remained a gentlemech throughout the interaction.

-"I take no offence at agent Blurr's actions. It is only logical for him to gauge my resilience if I am to work with him."

Blurr's jaw dropped, he could not believe his audios. With his impulsive behaviour he had sealed his fate, Shockwave fully claimed his willingnes to work together and he was not likely to be offered another partner after his stupid shenanigans. Not like he was going to abandon his last ditch attempt before everything went to the Pit. He turned to Sentinel.

-"S-Sir, if I may. I do not think our combat styles are compatible."

-"I liked what I saw on the simulation score, soldier. Welcome to the guard." Sentinel smiled all too warmly for Blurr to feel comfortable.

-"I have no prior experience of working with a partner, Sir!"

-"Well, then you either acquire it or we will find another candidate."

Blurr opened his intake, then closed it, looking from one official to the other. He felt cornered, he probably Looked cornered, too.

Shockwave was inscrutable as per usual, Sentinel just looked smug. Strika, Strika seemed to be studying him. It was not just curiosity, neither was it gauging of an opponent, more like his intrinsic worth was being weighed against Her standards and he did not wish anyone to be on the receiving end of that scrupulous assessment.

He wanted to whimper, feeling overwhelmed and trapped in an arrangement where every party had something to gain but him. Fleeing the site was becoming an increasingly more compelling option but he still had one last response to give.

-"May I request a day to consider this arrangement, Sir?"

Sentinel had lost his interest in him and just waved him off with -"Granted."

* * *

Blurr laid on his mat in his loft, suffering through the agony of his own making as his back plating itched and burned while integrating, when he received a ping from...Bumblebee? Suspicious, he opened the message only to see that it had been from Shockwave. The mech was pretty open about it, too. Like hacking into a Command Center officer´s private communication was no big deal.

Apparently he had opted to circumnavigate Blurr's policy of ignoring him in this fashion … spectacular, prime partner material. Even if Bumblebee was a fairly low-tier officer and, as it appeared, nobody had bothered updating the security passcodes since Longarm left…

Blurr groaned and rubbed his face, seriously? He could not believe he had been working for those mecha all this time. If the Decepticons had not been so busy trying to kill each-other, correction, flirt with each-other…

Blurr felt an onset of a helmache, what happened to all the competent mecha?

As to the contents of the message, it was a meeting time and a date, if he chose to work for the Guard - to review his running technique. Had it been any other mech, Blurr would have refuted it as a blatant invitation to a date. With Shockwave - accepting it would be dangerous. He had not yet agreed to anything with the Elite Guard so all the stakes were off the table, at least for the next solar cycle.

Blurr vented. So little time, so many decisions to make.

* * *

Ehooo people! Thank you for keeping up with this pretentious thing.


	22. Intervention

Twisting backwards, medical brush in hand, Blurr now regretted declining Ratchet's offer to stay in the med ward overnight. The fresh welds stung when he put strain on them but he could not apply the blasted nanite paste without straining them. Regardless, it had to be done if he wanted his new plating to integrate properly and the tiny program that tracked his progress informed him that he was still only 92% done.

Blurr made an executive decision to stop at that moment, closed his optics and vented a warm gush of air, wiping off droplets of dewy coolant that peppered his helm - frustration would only lead to ruptured seams and angry Ratchet.

That would have to do for now.

The familiar itch returned and Blurr prepared himself for the next bout of torture. Why did frame integration Always have to itch? It was a good itch, admittedly, but regardless… an itch.

He closed the nanite container and placed it on the shelf next to his now empty pad. He switched it on once more just to check if he had not overlooked a thing or two. Like before it remained blank and unwilling to divulge any secrets on who had wiped it or why but Blurr did notice that it's weight was slightly offset. Not something one would notice at once but only when he would hold the device for a longer period of time and sway it in his servo to feel the now-awkward center of gravity.

Blurr examined the seams of the device more carefully, scowling slightly when he discovered that they seemed slightly more open than he remembered. With practiced ease he used the thin thin edge of his armguard to open the tight seam. With a bit of fiddling, Blurr had succeeded in prying open the compartment of the pad that kept it's energy cells. Something indeed was off, lodged inconspicuously right next to the faintly pulsing wiring sat a dark little appliance Blurr immediately recognized as a bug.

This was not exactly new - back in The Guard some of his more paranoid colleagues had a tendency to try to weed out traitors or keep colleagues on their toes or were just reliving the Academy nostalgia. Whichever their excuse was when they were caught.

Blurr plucked the device from the place it had been nestled in and examined it, deep in thought. It was pretty useless, come to think of it - probably amateur work, too. A small sound transmitter like this was more effective in rooms full of conversing mecha rather than an apartment of a single individual. Unless whoever planted it thought Blurr often talked to himself or had more guests than one would expect.

Blurr sat on his floorpad/berth thing he´d salvaged from his previous dwelling and twirled the device in his fingers - now he was left with the 'delightful' mystery of who had planted it. Was it the vandals or was it the investigator taskforce or a third party Blurr was not yet aware of?

The device was still functioning despite being removed - another evidence of poor craftsmanship - so it Could provide him with intel on the frequency of the receiver. Not like it was much if it was a private channel he hadn't encountered before but it would still be a lead. Now who could he approach for something like this?

Blaster or Jazz would have normally been an excellent option or even Cliffjumper. But Cliffjumper's association with the government bodies rendered him useless for Blurr's purposes, Blaster was so deeply ingrained in making the enforcer communications run smoothly that Blurr did not have the spark to take more of his time, so Jazz it was.

Blurr pinged him a short and sweet message but it being the middle of recharge cycle - did not expect to receive an answer until the morning.

With recharge nowhere in sight for him Blurr paced, thinking what else to pass his time. He eyed the message from Shockwave for what seemed the fourth time that day.

The situation still seemed surreal. Since when had he started receiving invitations from high-ranking Decepticons? Especially from the mech that had not only used him, but also half-slagged him and then half-slagged him Again but before an audience.

Blurr did not even dare to touch that angry knot in his spark that pertained to everything Longarm had been to him. Which boiled down to how much Shockwave had to answer for, not as a part of a civil war; that was too easy. Personally, Shockwave was accountable for much grief on Blurr's behalf.

Concluding that delving on the past was not helping, Blurr set out to finally hunt down what the mysterious HDG tag stood for, if only to know who to hold accountable for tagging his bar´s door. The search on the networks proved rather elusive but the entry with most hits sent him to a pseudo-scientific site on ´Healthy Division´ which boasted suggestions on how to cohabit with their new Decepticon neighbors without necessarily interacting with them too much. A dumb premise by any standards but Blurr signed up for a meeting regardless.

Before he could delve any deeper, a clang just outside his door drew his attention. Wary of any wayward enforcers lurking about in search of mecha to tase, he snuck to the loft window and peeked out to see who it was. Down in the poorly-lit alley he could distinguish the stocky dusky-blue frame of a bruiser, a wheel in the middle of his back, a friendly voice ... banging on his back door.

-"Boss?! You here?!"

-"Breakdown? You're back!" Blurr did not care if he sounded ecstatic, did not care that his optics lit up in delight. Breakdown tilted his head up and waved at him.

-"Hey, I didn't see you at my place so I came to investigate."

-"Mind if we come in?" A less excited voice sounded somewhere from behind the large frame. Breakdown was not alone, a red speedster came out from behind Breakdown's shadow.

-"The place's a mess, but sure!" Blurr shouted and darted down the service ladder to greet his visitors.

They settled in the loft and Blurr fossicked about in his cupboards to see if he had anything to offer. Breakdown looked visibly concerned while his companion only wrinkled his nasal ridge and flicked off soot and fire extinguishing powder that had somehow ended up on his chassis. Blurr had not had time to do a proper cleanup.

Blurr reached into storage and winced at a pulled seam.

-"Boss, you ok?"

Blurr assured him it was nothing and offered some energon to his guests.

-"I thought I should officially introduce you two." Breakdown stated a little shyly. -"Blurr, please meet Knock Out."

Blurr and Knock Out locked optics. It had been Blurr's job to know the more notorious Decepticon doctors. Shockwave aside, Scalpel and Oil Slick ranked pretty high on his personal hit list but Knock Out was a rather obscure designation. Blurr had raked his databanks in search for any Intel on the mech since Breakdown had first mentioned him but nothing conclusive had emerged. So chances were that the mech was either very inconspicuous or hid well.

When Knock Out finally spoke, Blurr realised he had not been the only one studying the other. -"You know that you can always ask for help when it comes to fixing dings like these. I know shoddy handiwork when I see it."

Blurr stammered. -"I'll keep that in mind."

-"No, seriously, did you get run over by a train?"

Breakdown cleared his throat.

-"What Knock Out is trying to say is, what happened?"

-"I…" Blurr grasped to words to better summarize what the pit Had happened since Breakown had left and realized it had been a lot "...had a work interview."

-"With a trash com..mpmh? Hey!" Breakdown silenced Knock Out by quickly shooting a hand in front of his face.

Blurr chuckled humorlessly, -" You could almost call it that. It involved a fight against Shockwave."

Knock Out whistled -"I'm surprised you're still online."

Blurr shrugged.

-"What about the Oil house?" Breakdown intervened.

Blurr vented and took a seat, relaying the story alone made him tired and wary.

-"My insurance settlement would not be enough to cover the repairs. So I am getting a side job until I get the bar back up running."

-"So you decided to become a punching bag?" Knock Out tore his gaze away from examining Blurr's data pad shelf.

-"That was an unintended side effect. Officially I am considering returning to The Guard."

Knock Out made non-committal sound and Breakdown made a grimace of distaste.

-"You sure there are no other options, boss?"

Blurr sighed -"I am not excited about it, moreover now that I will have to work side by side with Shockwave. But it pays better than other alternatives and I am..."

Knock Out stopped from his previous activity of lazily swishing energon about his cube and Fixed Blurr with a stare.

-"Sorry to interrupt you here but Just to clarify, it was Shockwave who put you in this state on your first Interview…"

-"Yes, but, I technically... attacked him first." Blurr felt lame for some reason.

Knock Out and Breakdown exchanged meaningful glances but it was Breakdown who broke the silence.

-"Don't do it."

-"The mech's a stuck-up slagger, never had partners before. Starscream complained about him Constantly, not to mention Lugnut." Knock Out added with an optic roll.

Blurr was not sure how Knock Out knew all the minute details about the mech who had been known to be secretive.

-"That is quite some intel…" Blurr stopped himself before his investigator mode fully kicked in. -"I mean. How do you know this?"

Knock Out gave him a sly smirk and downed his cube.

-"That, my dear, is what I do. I drink and I know things."

-"You're also an excellent neurosurgeon." Breakdown stated with no small deal of pride. The smile Knock Out flashed him was brilliant. No wonder the bruiser was helm over pedes for the mech.

-"Breakdown, you've got soot all over you. Off you go to clean yourself up."

Breakdown looked at himself bit uneasy, slightly thrown by the change of direction their conversation had taken. There were some soot flecks but nothing out of ordinary, but he asked Blurr if he could use his washrack anyway.

No sooner had the door closed behind Breakdown had Knock Out crossed the loft in 3 large strides and pinned Blurr with his a sharp digit in the middle of his glass windshield.

Blurr tried not to flinch, in essence the mech was only a racecar but his experience told him not to underestimate medics of any faction. They were not a soldier class, they were a breed of their own - tenacious and quick to deliver debilitating blows.

Blurr was brought out of his reverie by a jab to his chest plate.

-"Listen, Autobot, we are both happy and friendly here now and I'd love to keep it that way. However if I get to know you've treated Breakdown badly or made any demeaning comments or unwanted advances towards him I will make your life even more miserable than it is now."

Blurr was not entirely sure where that had come from. He had coined Knock Out as the jealous rather than overly protective type of mech. Clearly he had underestimated him.

At this point Knock Out's hand had transformed helpfully into a rotary blade for added argument.

-"Are we clear?"

Blurr gulped -"Sure."

-"Excellent." The mech smiled and vacated Blurr's personal space only clicks before the washrack door opened.

Breakdown returned, steaming and fresh, wiping off remnants of solvent and Knock Out doted over him, dabbing off extra droplets of solvent that clung to his plating.

-" 's alright, Knock, it's just a little soot, not shrapnel." The bruiser did notice the tense atmosphere and asked if everything was alright.

-"Oh, we just had a little chat, nothing to worry about."

-"Yeah..." Blurr added at Knock Out's prompt.

Breakdown looked from Blurr to Knock Out a couple of times, then frowned and crossed his arms across his chest.

-"You threatened him didn't you?"

Knock Out examined his talons and said nothing. Blurr pressed his mouth in a hard line and looked to the side.

Breakdown vented. -"Come now. KO you can't do it to every single mech I introduce you to. If anything, it's scary."

Blurr had a distinct feeling he was going to end up in a lover's spat and that was the last thing he needed that night. Breakdown spoke to him next though.

-"Look, boss, I apologise. Knock Out can get a bit overprotective, and, well, it is not entirely without grounds but you are not like that. So, how about we help you out a bit as an apology?"

Blurr was extremely hesitant about Breakdown's suggestion mostly because of Knock Out's suddenly excited mood.

-"Thank you, but you needn't bother."

-"Of course I don't but we Can't leave you in this state now can we?" The red speedster joined in, smiling in a way that did not make Blurr comfortable at all.

-"It is really alright."

-"I'm glad we are on the same page then. Breakdown?"

Blurr felt heavy servos descend on his shoulders, he was uncertain how Knock Out pulled off this much hostility with his flamboyant attitude but there he was - already uncapping the container with nanites.

-"Now, let us apply these properly first, Breaky, could I ask you to start with removing grit from his joints?"

Blurr gulped.


	23. The Healthy Division Group

It was true what they said about history repeating itself. Cybertronians had several wars behind them to prove it and in moments like these Blurr wondered if This was how they all had begun. He rearranged himself in the seat, the hard surface doing nothing to alleviate the static energy building uncomfortably under his plating. To his great displeasure remaining still was only a fraction of reasons why.

-"HDG is all-inclusive and stands for safety and comfort of all the citizens. We are well-aware that Decepticons and Autobots are now free to cohabit in peace however one must understand that it is not only sigils that mark a difference between us!"

The mech who spoke was a red-faced flying model with a nice voice and an enticing speech manner. Blurr overlooked a handful of civilian Autobots and a couple of neutrals also attended the meeting to get the gist of who were the targeted audience. Half way through the introductory speech it became apparent that no self-respecting Decepticon would show their faceplates here. Blurr, being a mech who had actually met and interacted with real, live Decepticons had to occasionally hide a smirk or an optic roll.

Things he did for investigation.

Following his late-night application, he had been quickly invited to the next gathering of the elusive group of...he was not even sure how to call them. Mecha who insisted that certain segregation was not only healthy but necessary to maintain good inter-faction relationships? A bunch of sociopaths? The haters not very anonymous?

Some xenophobia was to be expected considering the history the factions shared and not having any at all would have been highly irregular as well; Blurr had initially chalked up a meeting of this type to a benign bout of natural opposition some part of their society would have had. But a gathering prepared this well required serious planning and co-ordination.

-"Hey, you!"

Blurr jumped in his seat and started paying more attention to his surroundings. The uncomfortable silence that settled in the room and looks directed his way made him look about himself as well to see if the mech had referred to anyone in particular, like someone sitting beside him. Seeing that other attendants pointedly looked his way he hesitantly turned around to face the speaker once more and in an uncharacteristically slow moment pointed to himself and immediately wished he hadn't.

-"Yes, no need to be shy! Would you feel comfortable sharing your living space with a Decepticon?"

Put on spot, Blurr was tempted to tell that until very recently he had been crashing with a Decepticon bruiser who also happened to be in his employ.

-"I guess it dep...I meanIDon't Know." Blurr swiftly corrected himself, he had not yet gathered enough intel to be kicked out of this jolly aggregation of maniacs.

-"Right…" the speaker drawled, keeping an optic on Blurr. -"They are very different from us and don't let the integration propaganda fool you, little one."

Blurr blinked, confused and taken aback about the patronising tone, when had the conversation shifted from differeces in frame-types and triple-changers to what a faction wanted? Now he had to ask.

-" If I may, sir, what do you mean?"

-"My dear, truce or not; Decepticons are warbuilds. They may behave docile and nice - they could be your neighbors, the mecha preparing energon for you or even cleaning your habsuite. But rest assured itis a only a question of time when their programming will take over again."

Oh, ok, so they had finally arrived to the main purpose of this gathering. With big blue optics and a pouty, slightly clueless expression Blurr ploughed on.

-"You mean strike another war?"

The speaker shook his helm dramatically with a sad smile.

-"Oh no, believe it or not, they can be much more refined in their ways. They are outnumbered and in need to fill their ranks. Now that the war has obviously not worked they are trying to infiltrate and tear us apart from within."

-"Autobots are strong!" Someone from the present spectators butted in -"We will not be lured by their lies!"

-"I wish what you said was true but I regret to say that Decepticons are gaining sympathisers and these mecha are the weak link of our society. The link which we need to either correct or replace."

-"But Wh...?" Blurr forcefully clamped his intake shut, it suddenly clicked - the vandalism at the twin's place, the arson in his bar, the slurs, the 'HDG' on his bar's door was not a random graffitti, he had been marked! His tanks roiled with vengeance, both squeezing into his intake and sinking into the pit of his chassis. For one frantic, illogical moment Blurr feared that they might somehow know of his interaction with Decepticons by merely looking at him. He clamped his plating close for fear that it might start rattling - it was the first time he felt unsafe among his own people.

Noises of disgust and boo-ing drew Blurr back to what was happening in the gathering. With a sinking feeling Blurr stared at the screen which emerged smoothly from the wall panels.

-"The topic of this week is Decepticon mating habits. If you spot any signs of these in your fellow Autobots chances might be that they are sympathizers as well."

Shocked gasps sounded from the audience when schematics of what essentially was an interface array blinked onto the screen. Blurr just frowned wondering where the speaker was going with this - most Autobots indeed did not have programming for that and most equipment in their chassis had been reduced to mere vestigial pieces which would hamper their overall performance if removed - so they were left there.

Field agents of the Guard were an exception to this rule - their active arrays were treated like a necessary evil to infiltrate the enemy ranks but cases of them being used for reproductive purposes were unheard of. He was not even sure they Could be used that way. Having gotten the desired reaction the speaker continued.

-"They establish dominance with help of these archaic methods which we have deemed barbaric and degrading eons ago and they may want to push their way of interfacing onto you or mecha close to you."

Blurr felt faint with disgust - all he wanted was to stand up and leave. For Breakdown this 'barbaric' act had Also meant creating sparks - something labor-intensive that required time and commitment. Something the speaker was not mentioning at all.

They had moved on to a more graphic part of the instruction; Blurr had expected more elaborate schematics but what blinked onto the screen were pictures of real Decepticon bodies - dissected chassis, limp cables extended for inspection and ports sliced open to allow a better view of the internal workings. Blurr wanted to purge, quickly he rose and sought solace outside, emptying whatever lingered in his tanks onto the stairs of the building.

The sludge dribbled down the pristine steps and Blurr giggled a bit at how grotesquely artistic his spew looked.

Wiping his intake, he tool a look around, mecha walking in the street as if nothing had happened, as if nothing Was happening.

How many of these mecha Knew?

How many of these mecha had an idea of what was going on behind locked doors?

How …?

A hand was placed softly on his shoulder strut.

-"It is alright, little one."

-"Don't touch me!" Blurr spun around in a click and swatted away the unwanted contact. -"T-this is wrong!"

He stuttered, he never stuttered.

-"Many have a similar reaction the first time. Come in now." The mech looked around guardedly.

Blurr looked at the mech with pale optics… What?

-"That is not the point! What is the purpose of showing this on real bodies? How did they even get there?"

-"They were donated by the Research institute."

Researh institute?!

-"Who had authorised this?"

-"You needn't worry, we are operating with Magnus on our side. These mecha were not offlined for the purpose of the lecture."

Blurr's mouth hung open in disbelief, so mutilating dead Decepticon chassis was ok now? He grasped at the strands of his remaining training and made his body relax and go limp in a show of surrender, direcing his look towards the curb he stated in a defeated tone.

-"This was too much for me, I had not expected such graphic content."

Training or not, Blurr's mind was spinning. He needed to talk to somebody, anybody, Beta had to be informed about this.

-"That is understandable but I am going to have to ask you to come with me. What is your name, little one?"

Blurr raked his processor for reliable names of his fake identities and he almost wanted to laugh that the first that came to his mind had been authored by the annoying yellow scout.

-"It's Zippy, sir."

The gathering did not have any more graphic content and Blurr managed sitting through it with a fairly straight face. At the end they were asked to provide their contact details which Blurr faked for fear of actually being found out.

He left the gathering as if he was performing on stage; filtering who he now associated on the street or where he went was crucial. Going home directly was out of question because he did not yet know the full reach of those mecha and having someone follow a new attendant home was not unheard of so he settled in one of reputably Autobot establishments and had a think.

The take-away lesson of the gathering was that Autobot/ Deception interactions were somehow unnatural and unhealthy.

With a sinking feeling Blurr thought back to Drift and Ratchet, was that why they had been keeping their distance? Blurr did not believe that Ratchet cared much for public opinion but in this setting he would have ended up holding the proverbial short end of the deal.

That explained a lot of how public behaved, what it did not explain was the inaction on the part of Council, they were supposed to be the opposition so that the Magnus could not rule singlehandedly. Did they not see what was happening? Did they simply not care or were they enabling it? And if so where was the Decepticon culture negotiator now? Why was Beta not involved in This?

Blurr pulled up a blank screen and started writing an confirmation letter; if he wanted to get anywhere he could not longer remain a civilian.

* * *

Some may find this chapter relatable in certain ways which are purely incidental and completely unintended.


End file.
